


Strangely Comfortable

by tender_is_the_ghost



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Connor MacManus - Fandom, Murphy MacManus - Fandom, Norman Reedus - Fandom, Sean Patrick Flanery - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Assault, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kidnapping, Love, Mugging, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Torture, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set around 2 years after the events of the first movie. </p><p>Murphy and Connor rescue a woman who becomes an integral part of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:- 
> 
> So I’ve had this story languishing in my documents for about a year because I was never really happy with it. I didn’t have an ending for it and I had originally written it in second person which is something I try not to do anymore so it made finishing it seem incredibly difficult. I’ve opened the file multiple times in the last year only to close it again in frustration. 
> 
> However I finally found the inspiration to revisit it once more and, although the story is still the same, I’ve changed the point of view and the tense which I think has helped a lot. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, I’d love any feedback on it as the re-writes continue. 
> 
> It is, of course, dedicated to and written for my wonderful muse, Lucia. ♥

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Murphy’s body aches, way more than any thirty year olds ever should, he thinks to himself, rolling his neck as he walks. Then again, he’s probably put his body through a lot more trauma than your average thirty year old. Apart from the stiff neck he’s trying, unsuccessfully, to stretch out he can feel the skin across his ribs pulling painfully from the full body slam he received earlier from the meathead he'd been fighting with. Ahead of him, Connor is vocally reliving the night’s events, blow by blow, throwing in comparisons to himself fighting like Rocky and Murphy rolls his eyes at his brother’s back. Taking a last drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, he flicks the butt skyward, watching its trajectory as it soars briefly through the semi-darkness of the alley they’re in and then lands on the scuffed concrete with a small burst of sparks from its tip. That’s when he sees the woman crumpled against the filthy brick wall, half hidden in the recess of a doorway. For a second he thinks she's dead then, as his eyes adjust to the gloom a little better, he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

“Connor,” he calls sharply, dropping to his knees beside her and he hears his brother’s steps stop and turn back in his direction until he’s standing beside him.

“Is she dead?”

“No, still breathing,” Murphy replies, seeing now that there’s fresh blood painting the woman’s face and neck on one side. 

 “Leave her, brother. She’s just some homeless tart passed out for the night.”

“No, she’s not. Look at her clothes, Connor. When did you ever see a hooker dressed like that? I think she’s been attacked.”

Reaching out a tentative hand, Murphy brushes aside the woman’s shoulder-length dark hair to try and see where all the blood is coming from and she stirs under his touch.

“Miss? Hey, miss, are you okay? Do you need help?”

She gives a small groan and her eyes flick open, her lids fluttering a few times before she manages to keep them that way. It takes her a few seconds to focus on his face but, when she does, he sees a startled look in her eyes and she tries to back away from him, scrabbling for purchase on the rough ground and slamming herself even further into the doorway.  

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he keeps his voice low and smooth, raising his hands and backing up a little to show he’s harmless. “Nobody’s going to hurt ya. We’re just trying to help. You look like you’ve had a bit of trouble. You’re bleedin’ pretty bad there.”

He moves closer again, holding out a hand towards her face then stops as she brings up her own fingers to touch her cheek. He can see her eyes go wide as she looks at her fingertips which are dark and glistening in the dim light and then her face crumples into a rictus of pain and he reaches out to grab her as she passes out again.

“Connor, help me,” he demands, getting his arms underneath the woman to lift her.

Mumbling something Murphy doesn’t quite hear, Connor helps him get the woman up and into his arms so that he can carry her out of the end of the alley to where they left the car earlier that night. Thankfully the street is deserted in the small hours of the morning so there’s nobody to question why they’re putting an unconscious woman into their car.

“We’ll drop her at the ER,” Connor says, cursing as the broken engine coughs its way into life. “Quick, in and out before anyone can ask us any questions.”

“No,” Murphy answers, looking down at the woman he's cradling in his arms in the back seat and feeling an overwhelming urge to protect her. “I want to make sure she's okay. Let’s take her to James.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? That’s clear across town.”

“Connor, please,” Murphy begs, meeting his brother’s eyes in the rearview.

Grumbling under his breath, Connor narrows his eyes for a second but then slams the protesting car into a u-turn and sets off in the opposite direction.

“Then you can be the one to call him and wake him up,” Connor states, shaking his head. “This one’s on you, little brother. What kind of fucking shit have you gotten me into this time, huh? I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.”

Murphy tunes out Connor’s incessant chatter as he so often does, letting his brother’s voice drop to nothing more than comforting white noise and he turns his attention to the woman instead. She looks to be in her late twenties, he thinks, nicely dressed but not too showy and he wonders how she came to be in this situation, his blood boiling a little at the thought that somebody had done this to her. Checking her over, he can’t find any physical injuries apart from the one on her face which is obscured by her hair still and, although her clothing is obviously dirtied and bloodied, it doesn’t appear to be ripped or out of place which gives him hope that this was just a mugging and nothing more. He had noticed when they had picked her up that she had no purse or wallet nearby so there seemed a good chance that this was what her attacker had wanted.

They arrive at their destination in barely any time at all, the empty city streets giving Connor the opportunity to drive like a madman until he’s pulling into the parking lot of a modern looking low-rise building in one of the more affluent areas of the city. He kills the engine and turns to look back over the seat at Murphy, his eyes falling to the woman’s face.

“You’re up, time to make the call,” he tells Murphy, nodding through the window at the darkened building.

Carefully extricating himself from under the woman who gives a light moan as he lays her flat on the seat, Murphy climbs out if the car and crosses the street to the battered payphone on the opposite corner. Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he finds a quarter and drops it in the slot, dialing the number from memory and holding his breath until a sleepy male voice picks up on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Murphy. We’re at the office.”

“On my way,” replies the voice and the line goes dead.

Murphy heads back to the car where Connor is sitting on the hood, smoking a cigarette, and together they wait.

Less than ten minutes later, a mid-sized sedan pulls into the parking lot, its headlights sweeping over them as its driver parks next to them and gets out.

“You’re both standing,” James greets them, looking from one to the other.

“Patient’s in the car, doc,” Connor informs him, tossing his cigarette butt to the floor and grinding it under his boot.

James moves to look into the back seat, his expression betraying nothing and then turns to Murphy.

“Bring her inside.”

Murphy nods and Connor comes alongside him to help lift the still-unconscious woman from the car while James unlocks his office door and goes inside to silence the alarm and turn on the lights. By the time the boys enter the room behind him, he’s already washing his hands at the sink.

“Put her on the exam bed,” he instructs and they lay her gently down. “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Murphy tells him, crossing his arms nervously over his chest. “We just found her like that. She gonna be okay, doc?”

“Well, let me take a look and we’ll see. You two should wait outside.”

Murphy hesitates, his eyes lingering on the face of the woman, her skin looking so pale under the harsh glare of the overhead lights that it’s almost translucent and he doesn’t want to leave her side. Connor tugs on the sleeve of his jacket and Murphy reluctantly lets himself be led out to the waiting room as James firmly closes the door behind them. Connor flops into the nearest chair, hooking his legs over the side and flipping idly through a magazine from the neat stack on the table but Murphy sets up an anxious pacing in front of the exam room door, worrying at the tip of his thumb with his teeth.

“For the love of all that’s holy, would ya sit down,” Connor throws at him. “Yer makin’ me a fuckin’ nervous wreck with ya back and forth. The doc’s got this, just calm your tits.”

“Fuck you,” Murphy mutters in a half-hearted reply, making no move to sit down.

He knows that she’s in safe hands, that James will do anything in his power to take care of her just as he does for Connor and him. They’ve trusted their lives and their well-being to the man for the past couple of years and he’s never let them down yet. The fact that their paths ever crossed with that of a well-respected doctor from the good part of town was one of those things that Connor was still calling divine intervention and Murphy didn’t disagree with him. About two years ago they had been waiting in line to buy smokes at the corner store, standing behind a uniformed cop, shoving and pushing each other like giggling teenagers when a call had come in over his radio which had frozen them to the spot.

A three year old girl had been abducted from her back yard just minutes before and the dispatcher was giving out information on the vehicle that had been spotted leaving the scene. Connor and Murphy had looked at each other, the description of the van resonating in both their minds and had turned as one and bolted from the store, knowing exactly who’d taken the child. The van’s owner was a local man they’d always had their suspicions about but had never been able to prove anything. He was always in their peripheral vision and they knew exactly where to find him. Racing the few blocks to his ramshackle apartment on foot, they hadn’t even bothered with masks or guns, Connor had just barreled through the front door like it wasn’t even there and had scooped up the screaming child from where she was cowering on the filthy sofa. Murphy had followed, his vision a seething mass of red as he had cornered the guy trying to flee through the kitchen window and had taken a carving knife from the block on the counter and gone to work on making sure this piece of scum would never look at another child again. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to let the guy live but he had wanted him to endure a life of absolute misery and he thought that cutting off the guy’s dick while he watched might be a good start.

By the time he was done, Connor had managed to calm the child and she was smiling brightly up at him as he swung her up and down by her hands. A nod from him over her head had told Murphy that she was fine, that they had arrived in time and his stomach had unclenched a little from the tight knot it had been wound in. They had taken the child back to her home, calling in a favor from one of the cops they knew on the scene to have him bring out the father to meet them around the corner, away from all the buzz that was happening outside the house.

When the officer had escorted him to where they were waiting, he had dropped to his knees, tears streaming from his already red-rimmed eyes and had held onto his daughter like a drowning man clinging to life. Once he was able to compose himself enough, he had thanked them profusely, acknowledging who they were and passing no judgment on them. He had offered them anything that he had in terms of payment, looking pointedly at the blood that was still drying on Murphy’s clothes and skin, telling them that it would never be enough. Naturally they had declined but he had told them that he was an MD and any time they needed his help, all they had to do was call, no matter if it was day or night.

They had held him to his word the next time Murphy had been injured more seriously than they could take care of themselves and he had taken them in without question, patching up Murphy and sending them on their way with a packed bag of medical supplies. He was still true to his word, two years later, always there when they needed him, never asking what had brought them to him, just accepting that they were a force for good and it was his duty to keep them alive to carry on their fight.

Murphy’s mind bounces back to the present as James opens the door to the exam room and beckons them in.

“So, how is she?” Murphy asks, moving to stand at the woman’s side, taking note of the pristine white dressing that’s been carefully applied to her cheek.

“Well, not as bad as I thought she might be, considering the volume of blood she was wearing. She has a pretty nasty laceration on her face, most likely from a knife of some kind, and she’s a little bruised around her temple where she was probably punched but it doesn’t appear that she was sexually assaulted.”

Murphy grinds his teeth together, his fists clenching at his sides as he looks down at the woman’s sleeping face, now scrubbed clean of all the blood that had been caking it when they brought her in.

“Why’s she still out?” Connor asks.

“Shock, mostly. Her body shut down to protect itself. She’ll probably sleep for a few hours yet, let her body recalibrate a little. Do you have any idea who she is?”

“Nah, doc, we literally just stumbled over her on our way home.”

“So, what are you going to do with her? I’d say you could leave her here but I have patients starting in a few hours so I’ll need the room.”

“She’s coming home with us,” Murphy states before Connor can answer. “We’ll keep her safe until she wakes up. Maybe then she can tell us who did this to her and we can see that they don’t do it again.”

“Aye,” agrees Connor and Murphy is pleased to see that he's not putting up any kind of argument against taking the Jane Doe back home with them.

“Okay,” says James, “then let’s get her back out to the car so you can get her home before it gets light and somebody spots you. Just keep an eye on her for the next few hours and call me if you’re worried. Here, take these for when she wakes up, she's going to have one hell of a hangover.”

He hands Murphy a bottle of pills which Murphy slips into the front pocket of his jeans before the three of them carry the woman out to the car and put her in the back seat.

“She’ll need that dressing changed regularly, tell her. I gave her an antibiotic shot so she shouldn’t have any problem with infection but ask her if her tetanus is up to date too. If she doesn’t want to see her own doctor just call and you can bring her back here.”

“Will do, doc,” Connor tells him, giving him a nod as he gets into the driver’s seat.  

Murphy briefly shakes James hand and thanks him before climbing into the passenger seat, leaving the woman alone in the back now that he knows she’s going to be okay. The old car’s engine battles to life again and they pull back out, leaving James to lock up behind them. The drive back across town is uneventful and Murphy is grateful that Connor’s motor-mouth is silent for once. Parking the car in the narrow alley at the back of McGinty’s, the brothers manage to get their mystery woman inside and up the back stairs without her waking once.

Since their father left to return to Ireland, the boys had moved into Doc’s bar, taking over the unused upper floor and claiming it as their own. Doc had his own small set of rooms downstairs to the rear of the bar and had pretty much abandoned the second floor when the stairs became too much for his arthritic hips to handle on a regular basis. Connor and Murphy had cleaned out two rooms for themselves among the masses of old furniture and storage boxes that had accumulated over the years the bar had been in business.

Carrying the woman’s sleeping body to his room, Murphy puts her gently into his bed, stripping her quickly from her bloodied clothing and re-dressing her in one of his old t-shirts over her underwear, trying to keep his eyes averted from her as much as possible. Connor, standing in the doorway, has no qualms about taking a good look at what she has to offer, whistling appreciatively as Murphy pulls the blanket over her before fetching her a glass of water from the bathroom and leaving it on the bedside table. Ushering Connor out of the room and scooping up her discarded clothing, he leaves the door ajar so that they can hear in case she calls out for anything. The two of them head along the hallway to the pool room at the far end, Murphy ducking down the stairs first to Doc’s small utility room to throw the woman’s dirty clothes into the wash.

Back upstairs he joins Connor, collapsing into one of the over-stuffed armchairs surrounding the pool table that’s dominating the center of the room. Murphy breathes a sigh of relief as his body sinks into the welcoming comfort. Although it’s almost dawn and his body is feeling the withdrawal of the adrenalin that had fueled his actions for most of the night, he suddenly feels wide awake when he knows he should really be crashing. Turning his head to where Connor is sprawled in the armchair beside his, he can see his brother is obviously feeling the same way, his fingertips drumming aimlessly on the arm of his chair.

“Wanna play?” Murphy asks, slapping the back of his hand against Connor’s upper arm to get his attention and then nodding at the pool table.

Connor shrugs but pushes himself up out his seat anyway and moves to the table to rack the balls, both of them knowing that the distraction will help them unwind from the night they’ve had.

A couple of hours later and the game has degenerated into a free-for-all, each of them doing their best to put the other off when they’re making a shot, until Murphy throws his hands in the air in defeat and leans against the pool table to light a fresh smoke.

“Man, I could really use a shower,” he says, lifting the front of his t-shirt away from his body and wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Then go take one, dumbass,” Connor retorts. “Stop fouling up my air.”

“Can’t,” Murphy replies. “There’s a girl in my room, remember?”

“Well maybe you’ll get lucky, little brother,” Connor smirks, reaching out to shove Murphy in the shoulder. ‘Did you see the rack on her? Hello!”

“Connor!” exclaims Murphy, shoving his brother back.

“What? I can be a gentleman and still admire the female form. I would’ve thought you’d have been copping an eyeful too, seeing as how long it’s been since there was any action in that bed apart from you and your five-fingered friend.”

“Fuck you! Just because I’m not trying to stick my dick in anything with tits all the time like you are.”

“Hey, at least I’m not afraid to go to my room because there’s pussy in there,” Connor cackles, shooting a mocking grin at Murphy.

“Bite me, ya little prick, I ain’t afraid,” yells Murphy, furiously stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the edge of the table.

“Oh yeah, is that right? Not what it looks like to me. Pussy!”

“I’m warnin’ ya, Con,” growls Murphy, balling his fists against his thighs.

“Yeah, whatchya gonna do about it, pussy?” crows Connor, standing toe to toe with his brother and grinning infuriatingly. “Pussy, pussy, pussy.”

Murphy launches himself at Connor, tackling him low around the waist and pitching him up onto the surface of the pool table where he crashes down, scattering the balls and giving a low grunt of pain. He grabs at Murphy, bringing him down with him and the two of them begin wrestling for the upper hand, trading dirty punches and headlocks, not really fighting with any seriousness but just blowing off steam.

The sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway halts them in mid-fight, both of them turning in unison to see their guest standing tentatively in the doorway, a look of apprehension on her face. Murphy frees himself from his brother's grip and rolls himself off the table.

 

"Hey, how are you feeling? How's your..."  he starts, walking towards her and then stopping when she takes a step back from him, chewing on his lower lip as he decides how to approach her.

 

“Where are my clothes?” she asks, her fingers tugging down on the hem of his t-shirt which is barely covering her thighs and he can hear the slight lilt of an accent in her words.

 

Moving slowly so as not to spook her, Murphy walks over to pick up her freshly washed and folded clothes from the armchair and hand them to her at arm’s length before backing away a few steps. She quickly shakes out the skirt and steps into it, pulling it up under the edge of the t-shirt she’s wearing and fastening it around her waist. Holding up her blouse to look at it, Murphy sees her already pale face lighten another shade as she takes in the stains flooding the front of the satiny material.

 

"Sorry'' he says sheepishly, as if it was his fault, “I don't think that's coming out."

 

She lowers it back down and clutches it tightly in her fist. Connor slips off the table and comes over to stand with his brother, throwing an arm around his shoulders. 

 

"I'm Connor and this here little runt is my baby brother, Murphy."

 

Murphy elbows him in the ribs and twists out from under the arm on his shoulders.

 

"Fuck you! For all we know you're the baby brother!"

 

"Twins?!" the woman asks, looking from one to the other.

 

"Aye, for me sins,” Murphy says with a wry grin. “What’s your name, love?”

 

He can see the look of utter panic and confusion that dominates the woman’s face, her brow furrowing, as she searches for what should be such an easy answer but one that she can’t seem to find. A look of pure terror contorts her face, her hand rising to her head, making Murphy start forward to try and help her in some way when she suddenly gasps and blurts out a word.

 

“Lucia.”

 

With that one word it’s as though he can see a dam bursting behind her eyes and she sinks to her knees on the threadbare carpet, her arms wrapping protectively around her body as she loses herself in whatever memories are flooding her mind. Connor stands, frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch her grief unfold but it’s Murphy that takes action, dropping to the floor beside her and hauling her onto his lap. He holds her firmly in his arms, stroking her back and whispering soothing words in her ear as she closes her eyes and leans against his chest. Connor comes to sit, cross-legged on the floor, on the other side of her, both of them waiting until she seems to regain some control of herself and she opens her eyes, tilting her head back to look up into Murphy’s face. He loosens his grip on her, feeling suddenly conscious of the fact that he’s completely invaded her personal space but, at the same time, reluctant to let her go completely. She shifts slightly away from him but he keeps one hand pressed against the small of her back, his thumb stroking her reassuringly. Connor shuffles closer, holding out a hand to her which she takes without hesitation and he wraps his fingers around hers and squeezes lightly.  

"Can you tell us what happened last night?" he asks, his voice soft and low, and then quickly adds, "It's okay if you don't want to.”

 

Lucia takes a deep breath, looking at both of them in turn and then, hesitantly at first, her words begin to flow.

“I was on my way home from dinner, my friend Rachele just got a new job and a few of us went out to celebrate. I’d drunk a little more wine than I’d intended to so I thought I’d walk home to clear my head. My apartment is only a few blocks from the restaurant but nobody else was going my way so I left on my own. It never bothers me, walking by myself at night, you know, it’s not like it’s a bad neighborhood and it wasn’t really that late.

I stopped to light a damn cigarette but there was too much of a breeze so I ducked into the end of the alley to get a bit of shelter. I guess I wasn’t really paying attention, my stupid lighter is always sticking so I was more concerned about that than where I was. Next thing I know, there’s a man’s voice practically in my ear asking me if I could spare him a ciggie. I took one look at him and knew I was in trouble.”

“What did he look like?” Connor asks, his tone grim.

“Tall, shaved head. He had a scar running down his temple and through his left eyebrow, almost to his ear. Bad teeth.”

Connor nods, obviously filing away the description mentally and Lucia continues.

“That was when I realized he wasn’t alone but I never really got a good look at the other guy. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and over his head, covering half his face. I put my lighter back in my purse and put the strap over my head, across my body like they always tell you to do in those safety classes. I told him it was my last one so he asks me if he can just have a drag of it because he’s desperate. I don’t know what I was thinking, my heart was pounding and my legs were shaking, so I said yes and held it out to him and when he leaned closer to take it, I flicked it in his face and bolted.

I was stupid though, I thought I’d stand a better chance heading for the opposite end of the alley, away from both of them but it was further than I thought and the shoes I was wearing weren’t exactly made for running. I barely got fifty feet before the hooded guy slammed into me and shoved me into the wall. I tried to get away but he pinned me there until his buddy caught up. I could see him rubbing his face and there was a red welt under his eye where I must’ve caught him with the ciggie, lucky shot I guess. He pushed the other guy aside and got all up in my face, calling me a bitch, telling me I needed to learn some manners and how to treat a man right when he’s trying to be my friend.”

Lucia stops for a moment, her breath coming heavily, and Connor and Murphy both reassure her with their touches until she continues.

“He started grabbing at me with one hand, slamming my head back against the wall with his other one and I freaked out, went into full blown panic which just made him laugh and tell me he liked it. When he managed to get his hand up under my blouse, I just lost it, started thrashing about like a wild thing, punching and kicking and somehow I managed to knee him in the balls. Before I could try anything else, though, he clamped his hand over my mouth and suddenly there was a knife in my face.   

I could see he was furious, he started cursing me out and then told me he and his friend were going to teach me a lesson. I knew if I didn’t get away then, I was going to wish I was dead. While I was thrashing about, he lost his grip on my mouth so I bit him until I could taste blood and then everything else happened so fast. He screamed, I screamed, he smashed my head into the wall again and again until my brain was ringing and then I just saw a flash of light and it felt like my face exploded. I remember falling to the floor so hard and somebody ripping my purse away then there were hands touching and pulling at my fingers and wrist but I was in so much pain, I couldn’t figure out why. The last thing I heard before I passed out was the guy calling me a bitch again and saying that I’d always remember him now.

After that there was nothing. I almost think I remember someone carrying me but I was probably hallucinating at that point.”

 

She finishes talking, huge tears rolling down her cheeks that Murphy doesn’t even think she knows are there and he looks past her at Connor, noting that his brother’s demeanor has changed completely. His jaw is set in a hard line, a muscle twitching in his cheek and his eyes have darkened to a steely grey. The comforting hand, that was holding Lucia’s so tenderly, is now white knuckled and gripping a little too tightly.

 

“Connor…” she says his name softly and tries to extricate her fingers from his.

 

“Fuck!” he says, “I’m sorry.”

 

He releases her hand and she flexes her fingers a little. The tension in the room is palpable and Murphy gets up to stand, leaning forward against the pool table, his hands gripping the edge so tightly that the veins in his forearms are standing out like wires. He’s trying to reign in the urge to fly out of the door and hunt down the scum that did this to her, to exact his own brand of justice. The sight of her tear-stained face is all that’s holding him in check though, he doesn’t want to traumatize her any further than she’s already been for one night.      

 

“Did I go to the hospital?” she asks suddenly. “Did they release me and I just don’t remember?”

 

Connor looks down at his lap, not meeting her inquisitive gaze so she looks to Murphy.

 

“Ah, now you see, here’s the thing, lass. If we’d taken you to the hospital, there would have been questions and paperwork and police involved and we’re… well… we’re kinda trying to keep a low profile around here. But don’t worry,” he adds hastily, “we took you to a real doctor – a good doctor. Let’s just say the man owes us a debt he can never pay back, so anytime we need patching up, he’s the fella we go to. He did a real nice job on your face and gave us some top-notch painkillers for you. Reckon you’re going to be needing those soon.”

 

He gives her a small sympathetic smile and reaches into the pocket of his jeans for the bottle of meds James gave him which he walks over to hand to her. There’s no label on the outside but there’s a good amount of medication inside.

 

“Two whenever you need them but not too close together,” he says as she takes the bottle from him and clenches her fingers around it.

 

“They took my purse,” she tells them suddenly, her head shooting up with a fearful look and her voice quavering a little. “They have my keys and my I.D. They know where I live.”

 

“Aw, fuck!” curses Connor.

 

"I have to go to the police,” she exclaims, scrambling to her feet and Connor follows her up.

 

"No!" the brothers say loudly in unison and she freezes on the spot.

 

"We'll take care of it,” says Murphy, taking her elbow and walking her towards the door. "Come on."

 

Stopping by his room for Lucia to grab her shoes, he leads the way downstairs, seeing the surprise on her face as she takes stock of her surroundings. The bar is obviously closed as it's still early but the smell of stale cigarettes and malt liquor hang like a haze in the air.

 

"You guys own a bar?" she asks Murphy as he takes her through the back door and out into the alley behind, Connor at their heels. 

 

"Ha! No," he laughs, “it belongs to a very dear, old friend of ours who lets us stay here from time to time."

 

Connor closes the door firmly behind them, the first hazy light of a fresh summer’s day brightening the alley as Murphy opens the passenger door and climbs into the back seat, pulling it back down so that Lucia can take the front seat. Connor slides in behind the wheel and looks at her expectantly. She gives him her address and he puts the car into gear, roaring out of the alley at breakneck speed.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Nobody speaks as the car flies past city blocks, weaving in and out of the morning traffic. Lucia watches as familiar places blur by, feeling completely detached from what’s happening as she tries to wrap her head around the events of the past few hours and figure out how she came to be in this situation. Everything has taken on an unrealistic air, almost as if she is watching things happen to someone else. She sneaks sly glances at Connor as he drives and she can feel the watchful gaze of Murphy in the seat behind her. She’s not sure what it is but something about their presence is inherently comforting to her. At a time when she should probably be shying away from strangers, she has a gut feeling that she can trust these men. After all, if they had meant to harm her, they’d have had ample opportunity to already, she thinks. Instead they seem to have taken good care of her, getting her medical attention and even washing her clothes for no reason she can see other than it was the right thing to do.

 

When Connor screeches to a halt in front of her apartment building, it takes her a moment to recognize it as her home. Despite the pain meds she dry-swallowed as soon as she got into the car, her face is throbbing dully and there's an apprehensive feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Connor kills the engine and turns in his seat to look at her, the grim look back on his face.

 

"Murph 'n me will go up and check it out," he says. "You wait here until one of us comes to get you."

 

“No!” Lucia answers, the harshness in her voice surprising her a little.  “It’s my home, I’m going to.”

 

Connor looks over the seat at Murphy, who shrugs.

 

“Okay, but you do as we say and Murphy goes in first, understood?”

“Why do I have to go in fuckin’ first?!” Murphy protests from the back seat.

“Because I fuckin’ say yeh have to, alright?!” replies Connor, leaning over the seat to cuff the side of Murphy’s head but Murphy blocks his hand easily and scoots out of range.

“Who fuckin’ died and made you the fuckin’ boss of me?”

“Ma said…” starts Connor.

“Oh, ‘Ma said, Ma said’” interrupts Murphy, “Ma didn’t say shite about you being in charge and you fuckin’ know it!”

“Watch your mouth! Don’t you be talkin’ about me Ma like that.”

“She’s my Ma too and I’ll talk about her any fuckin’ way I like! Now, are we doing this or not?”

“Just get the fuck outta the car and keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, okay?”

Connor opens the door and gets out, grumbling about how he has to put up with Murphy’s disrespectful mouth 24-7. Murphy is grinning at Lucia, his eyes sparkling mischievously and she feels the knot in her stomach loosen a little, even finding that she can manage a small smile back at him.

“Come on,” he says and she gets out of the car, pulling the seat forward for him then leading them into the building and up the stairs to the third floor landing where she stops dead.

“What number?” says Murphy in a low voice, the playfulness of a few minutes ago completely erased.

“3D, at the end,” she replies, pointing down the hall.

Murphy takes the lead with Connor and Lucia following side by side behind him until he stops in front of her door and Lucia remembers that she has no keys. Before she can say anything, Murphy reaches out and pushes on the door which swings easily inward. He steps into the threshold then stops again, a low whistle escaping his lips. Lucia cranes her neck to see past his broad shoulders, just about to shove him in the small of his back to shift him aside when he moves. Following him in, Connor close behind her, she enters the devastation of what was once her living room. She can feel herself blinking stupidly a few times, her brain trying to comprehend what she’s seeing and correlate that information with the memory of the room she left behind the night before.

She’d only been living in the apartment for a few months but she’d made the place her home already. Now it looks as if a small explosion has gone off inside it. All the soft furnishings are in tatters, curtains torn down, sofa cushions slashed. Anything that could be smashed – is. She can see cupboards open in the compact kitchen and broken dishes littering the tiled floor. The refrigerator has been left open, the shelves yanked out, and food mangled on the floor. Lucia’s eyes travel around the room and she notes that the tv and dvd player are missing as well as her stereo and ipod dock. She shifts her glance to the corner of the room that she has set up as her work area. As a freelance graphic designer, most of her work is done from home and she has to fight to hold back the tears as she sees her art supplies and the piece she was working on are destroyed. Both her pc and laptop are gone along with her tablet and the external hard drive she uses for backing up her work.

Scrawled on the main wall that leads to her bedroom, in foot high letters in red paint, are the chilling words, ‘We’ll be back’. The morning sun lights the paint like a flare, burning the words onto her retinas so she can still see them even when she closes her eyes. As she starts towards the bedroom, Connor lays a gentle but firm hand on her arm, nodding to his brother. Murphy moves up alongside the door and stretches out an arm to push it open. The room beyond is not that big so, unless someone is hiding in the en-suite, she’s pretty sure it’s empty. Shaking off Connor’s hand, Lucia pushes past Murphy and enters the room, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach growing as she sees the devastation continues into there. The curtains are hanging in shreds, the bedding just a mess of slashed material and the mirror above her dresser is broken. The drawers are all open, clothing hanging out or tossed on the floor and the closet door is standing open, most of her clothes now tangled in a heap on her bed. She starts to reach for them when she notices a crusted white substance covering most of them and she swallows hard as it dawns on her what it is, snatching her hand away.

In the meantime, Murphy has walked over to the closed bathroom door and is about to open it. Lucia opens her mouth to tell him not to bother, she doesn’t want to see anymore, but it’s too late. As he turns the handle and pushes it open, the overwhelming stench of excrement pushes out to fill the room, making her gag reflexively. Murphy has pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and is peering into the bathroom, his brow deeply furrowed. Past him Lucia can see glimpses of her shower curtain and the usually sparkling white tiles of her shower smeared with brown streaks.

It’s all too much for her and she starts back-pedaling furiously, trying to get away from everything. Her head is pounding, her face unleashing needles of fiery pain across her skin and panic is making her nauseous and dizzy. She backs into Connor and lets out a small scream as he puts out an arm to steady her but it’s too late. Everything feels like it’s crashing in on her and she collapses once more into oblivion, feeling strong arms catch her before she hits the floor. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Lucia awakes with a start, heart racing, and sits up to find herself back at the bar in Murphy’s small bedroom. She can’t tell what time of day it is, the only window is so grimed over that she can’t see out but she can feel, rather than hear, the thumping bass of music coming from the bar below so she knows it must be late in the day. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she has a minute of dizziness, closing her eyes and breathing shallowly until it passes. When she opens them again, she spots a bottle of water on the bedside table along with her medication and a cheap digital watch which she picks up and sees that it’s 11:30pm. Feeling like she has no idea what day it is anymore and realizing she must have slept since the early morning, she cracks open the pills and swallows two with a swig of the tepid water. Her stomach grumbles noisily and she pushes away the blanket that was wrapped around her, rising a little unsteadily to her feet. Looking down at herself she realizes that she’s still wearing the same mis-matched outfit as before of Murphy’s worn t-shirt and her fancy pencil skirt. Her heart sinks as everything that’s happened threatens to overwhelm her again but another loud rumble from her stomach gets her up and moving, out of the room and down the hall. She hesitates at the top of the stairs, not really feeling like facing anyone she doesn’t know and then moves on to the room with the pool table where she’d found the brothers that morning, hoping that they’re there.

Murphy is sitting in one of the armchairs on the far side of the room, a newspaper on his lap and he’s circling something on the page, his tongue poking between his lips as he concentrates. He looks up as Lucia comes in and puts the paper to one side as he shoots to his feet and comes to greet her.

"Hey! I was just going to come check on you. How are you feeling?" 

As he talks, he's steering her into the chair he just vacated and sitting her down, pulling a blanket from the back of the chair and draping it over her legs, tucking it in at the sides. It's such a simple gesture but his kindness touches her and, before she can stop herself, she’s crying again. 

"Aww.... now, don't be doing that. Come on, it'll be okay. We'll take care of you," Murphy says, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. 

Seeing the concern on his face just makes her cry harder until he's backing away from her, mumbling something about going to get Connor. He does an about face and exits the room, practically at a run. Lucia buries her face in her hands, trying to get herself under control until she feels someone sit down on the arm of the chair next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"There now," Connor soothes, "I've got you. Let it out, lass, let it out."

She leans into his side, burying her face against the softness of his t-shirt as he strokes her back, all the time murmuring soothing noises. After a few minutes she gets herself back under control, sitting up straight and wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. Connor eases back a little but doesn’t make a move to get up and Lucia’s head turns at the sound of Murphy coming back into the room, balancing a tray in both hands and kicking the door closed behind him. He sets it down on the edge of the pool table and hands Lucia a plate holding an enormous burger and a heap of fries.

"I thought you might be hungry, you haven't eaten all day," he explains as he grins down at her, his eyes crinkling and she can't help but smile back at him.

"You'd be right, I'm starving," she replies, digging into the fries. 

He turns back to the tray and puts a beer down next to her chair before handing one to Connor and taking one for himself then he hops up to sit on the edge of the pool table, legs swinging. Between mouthfuls of food, Lucia starts to talk, the food renewing her strength and making her feel a little more human.

"I'm not usually this much of a basketcase I swear, you know, with the crying and passing out and shit. I'm not a victim and I refuse to be one," she states, looking from Murphy to Connor, daring them to disagree. “I've just had a- a rough day and you guys have been amazing, taking me in and taking care of me. Seriously, if you hadn't come along when you did, I might be lying in the morgue right now. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to repay you but I'm going to start by getting my shit together and figuring out what I'm going to do now."

Connor takes a swig of his beer and looks at Murphy.

"Well now, that was quite the speech," he grins, “but you don't have to thank us, it's what we do."

She looks to Murphy, who rolls his eyes and snorts into his beer so she turns back to Connor.

"You rescue women you find in dark alleys a lot, do you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Among other things, yes," Connor answers, his tone darkening slightly and he takes another long draw from his beer. "Now, tell us what we can do to help."

"Well... I guess what I need is access to a computer. I have to cancel my credit cards, although those are probably maxed out by now, get a new phone taken care of and see if I can find somewhere to stay for a start. And what I'd really like is some clean clothes. Then I can worry about what I'm going to do about my apartment. I guess it really is too late to go to the cops now, isn't it? Don't you think I should have reported it or something? What if they can get my computer back? All my work is on there, it's pretty much irreplaceable. Maybe these guys have done stuff like this before, they might have a lead on who they are."

Murphy sets his beer down on the pool table with a bang and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"The cops ain't gonna do fuck all for ya. Oh sure, they'll be sympathetic and write their stupid fucking reports and then they'll go right on, drinking their coffee and eating their fucking donuts. We're going to find who did this and then we're going to fucking make them pay!"

He jumps down from the table and starts pacing, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, muttering under his breath about 'common decency' and 'motherfuckers'.

"Alright there, baby brother, why don't you take it down a notch and go get us some more beers before you send Lucia into another freakout, okay?"

Murphy worriedly looks in her direction at Connor’s words and she smiles to reassure him she’s not about to freak out, so he nods his head and leaves the room. She can still hear him muttering something under his breath as he goes.

"Sorry about my little brother, he gets a little ‘passionate’, shall we say, when it comes to the injustice in this city. We both do," he adds, “but Murph just seems to take it all personally. But he's not wrong - we will find who did this and we'll see that they don't do it to anyone else."

"How are you going to find them?"

"Oh, we have our ways, don't you worry. Tell me, apart from your computer and your tv, did you have any other valuables in your place? Jewelry maybe, that they might have taken?"

"No, everything I own, I was wearing," Lucia says, her words slowing as she looks down at her hands and the memory of someone tugging at her fingers just before she passed out in the alley comes sharply back to her. "Oh God! Connor, they took my grandmother's ring. It was the only thing I had of hers, it was priceless."

The tears threaten to start again but she refuses to let them, shaking her head to clear her vision. Connor leans over and covers both of her hands with his.

"We'll find it, okay?"

She nods vigorously, needing to believe it's true, knowing she’ll never forgive herself if she doesn’t get it back somehow. Murphy arrives back at that moment with more beers and, after handing them out, resumes his perch on the pool table, where he looks pointedly to where Connor is holding Lucia’s hands.

"So what did I miss?"

Connor withdraws his hand and leans back to pop the top off his bottle. 

"Lucia was just telling me the bastards took her grandma's ring," he tells Murphy and then looks down at Lucia. "Do you have a picture of it, something we can identify it with? I’m thinking maybe we can hit up some of the local pawn shops, see if anyone’s tried to sell it."

"Sure... on my computer that they took. But if you have some paper, I can sketch it for you, if that'll help?"

"For real?"

Lucia nods and Connor gets up from the arm of the chair and starts rummaging around the room, looking for scrap paper. He finds an old flyer for an event at the bar and brings it over, picking up the pen that Murphy was using earlier. She moves her empty plate off her lap and Murphy gets up to hand her the tray from the table. Flipping it over she begins sketching a quick outline of the ring, conscious of two pairs of eyes watching her hand fly over the paper. She raises her eyes from her work and they both look away, Murphy rubbing the back of his neck nervously and Connor reaching for his beer. A few minutes later she finishes and hands the paper to Connor, who whistles appreciatively. 

"This is really fucking good", he says, handing it to Murphy.

"Well, it's what I do!" 

Connor nods, laughing, then takes the paper back from Murphy. He walks to the door and takes a black coat from a hook on the wall. A matching one hangs from the hook next to it.

"I'm going to go hit a couple of the 24 hour places, see if I can shake anything loose."

"You want me to go with you?" Murphy asks, following Connor over to the door. 

"Nah, I'll be fine. You stay here and see if you can find the laptop for Lucia." 

Connor lowers his voice and whispers something to Murphy that she can't hear, causing Murphy to punch him hard in the shoulder.

"Fuck you, you fuckin' prick!" Murphy yells after him.

Connor's laugh echoes around the room as he leaves, closing the door behind him. Lucia raises an eyebrow questioningly at Murphy but he doesn’t say anything, just starts digging in a box he pulls out from under the table. He makes a triumphant sound as he pulls out a battered looking laptop with the power cord wrapped around it. He brings it over and hands it to Lucia, unwrapping the cord and crawling behind her chair to plug it in. She boots it up while he looks over her shoulder expectantly. When the log-in screen pops up, he leans over her and slowly types something in with one finger. He's so close to her that she can smell the beer on his breath and the faint smell of cigarette smoke mixed with that undefinable musky odor that only men seem to have. She studies his profile for a moment, taking in his dark, messy hair which looks self-cut, his angled cheekbones leading to his cute snub nose and she notices clearly for the first time the dark mole by his upper lip.

It dawns on her that neither brother has any notion of personal space, either with her or with each other. They always seem to be touching in some manner, a slap or a nudge or just a hand resting on the other. It’s an easy intimacy born of a whole lifetime together. She’s not sure if it's intentional with her, that they don't want to make her feel like a freak for what happened to her, or if it's just the way they are but she appreciates it nonetheless. The last thing she wants is to be treated like some fragile creature that's going to freak out if a man comes within touching distance.

Murphy finishes his laborious typing and straightens up. The desktop opens up and Lucia stares at it, trying to figure out what it is that she’s looking at. She blinks a couple of times until the picture makes sense.

"Oh fuck! Fuck! Shit! I'm sorry," Murphy is blustering beside her, "that's Connor. I keep telling him to keep his fucking porn to himself. Nobody needs to see that kinky shit he likes."

"It's okay," she laughs, finding his embarrassment adorable, "it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Really?!" he cocks an eyebrow and looks down at her.

"Really."

"Huh."

He seems to be pondering this thought as he drags over the other armchair from the back of the room and puts it adjacent to hers. He flops down in it, hanging his legs over the arm and idly kicking his boots against the side. 

Lucia opens the web browser, wondering what will greet her there but it takes her directly to google. She types in the address for her bank and quickly enters her username and password, her heart sinking as her current balance is displayed on the screen. 

"They've wiped out my account," she says, turning to Murphy. "How did they even do that without my pin number?"

"Fuckers!” Murphy spits out, his face darkening. "Oh, there are ways, believe me, it's not as hard as you'd think."

She turns back to the screen, calling up the details for her credit account. To her surprise, it hasn't been touched and she relays this information to Murphy.

"Yeah, cards are too easily traced now and what with security cameras on every corner, there's a good chance you'll be spotted using it. Your ATM card is a safer bet, use it at some Mom and Pop store with one of those machines inside and no cameras and they're fuckin' laughing."

Lucia nods miserably, turning back to the laptop to open another tab and log into the site for her other credit card. This one hasn't been touched either and she feels a little better even though the money taken from her bank account was nearly a thousand dollars. 

"Do you have a phone I can use?" she asks Murphy. "I want to call and cancel these cards just in case they change their minds and decide to use them after all."

"Yeah... somewhere."

He jumps up out of his chair and starts rifling through boxes again until he brings out a plastic wrapped cell phone, the kind that come pre-paid. He brings it to her and hands it over, then flops back into his chair, legs dangling once more. 

"Murphy, can I ask you something?" she says, struggling to get the hard plastic shell around the phone open. 

"I guess," he replies. "Here, give me that." 

He holds out his hand and she tosses the phone back to him. From out of nowhere, a switchblade appears in his hand and he stabs it into the plastic. Lucia’s hand instinctively flies to the bandage on her face and he must see the movement in his peripheral vision because he stops cutting and looks up. 

"Oh shit! I'm sorry darlin', I wasn't thinking. Stupid, stupid idiot." 

He flicks his wrist, the blade disappears and he puts the knife back out of sight, never taking his eyes off of her. 

"It's okay," she tells him, attempting a smile, "it just took me a little by surprise, that's all. You don't have to be sorry for anything."

He gives her a crooked grin and turns his attention back to the phone, his strong fingers ripping open the packaging. He starts putting the battery into the back and powering up the phone.

"So, what was your question?" he asks, without looking up.

"Are you guys drug dealers?"

His head shoots up, an incredulous look on his face.

"What the fuck?! No! Why would you think that?" his voice is raised and she can hear the disgust in his tone, realizing that she was way off the mark.

"Well, you know, the whole 'can't go to the cops thing' and the knife and the phone. Don't dealers use those so they can't be traced? And this place is your safe house, right?"

Murphy is giving her a look which is making her want to crawl under the nearest bed and hide. A muscle along the lower side of his jaw is twitching and he takes a moment before he speaks. 

"No, we're not drug dealers nor are we thieves or rapists or murderers. We're the closest thing to justice you're going to see in this fucking town. If you knew what we'd done..." he trails off, not finishing his thought.

"I'm sorry. I know you're not bad guys, after all, look what you've done for me. But you have to admit, you're not the conventional knights in shining armor. I didn't mean to offend you." 

He relaxes a little, the tenseness leaving his jaw.

"Aye, I get that. I guess our situation is a little unusual. But don't let Connor hear you talk about drug dealers. My dear brother has a pathological hatred of their kind. He's lost more than a few friends to that shit. Besides our Ma would fucking kill us if we got involved with that stuff so we could never be dealers." 

He laughs softly and hands her the cell phone which is now up and running. 

"Thanks", she says, "and I really am sorry."

"Forget about it. It's no big deal." 

He slumps back into his chair and watches her silently as she calls first the bank and then her credit card company's 24 hour hotlines to report her cards stolen. With that done, she turns her attention back to the computer and enters a general search for local news stories. She’s curious to find out if there have been any similar attacks to hers reported recently. She skims article after article, jumping from site to site, looking for any similarities to her own situation. 

After a while, a soft snoring starts from beside her and she looks across to find Murphy has fallen asleep, his head tilted against the back of the chair. Lucia finds herself studying his features again in the soft light. His face has taken on an angelic quality in his sleep, lips slightly parted and dark lashes brushing his cheeks. She can see faint traces of silvery scars lacing his skin in places and her fingers are itching to draw him.

She’s just contemplating getting up to search for more paper, when the door opens and Connor walks in. He takes in the sleeping Murphy and a wicked grin spreads across his handsome features. He quietly crosses the room and leans over until he's inches from Murphy's head then he lets rip with an ear curdling yell right in Murphy's face, laughing like a lunatic when Murphy rears up with a comically startled expression. He dances back out of reach as Murphy takes a swipe at him and, still laughing, goes to hang his coat back on the hook by the door. Murphy rubs a hand over his face and scowls at the back of Connor's head. 

"Murph, a word," Connor jerks his head back to summon his brother to his side of the room. 

Murphy huffs out a breath but gets off the chair and goes over to where Connor is standing by the door. Connor rests a hand on his shoulder and leans in to talk quietly to him. Lucia turns her attention back to the laptop, trying to appear uninterested in their conversation when, in reality, she’s straining to hear what's being said. She notices that Murphy is getting agitated, his hands gesticulating wildly, arguing with Connor about something and throwing glances in her direction. Connor grasps the back of Murphy's neck with a firm hand, steadying him and talks to him in a low voice. Murphy nods reluctantly and Connor gives his neck a squeeze before releasing him and bending to pick up a bag by the door that she didn't notice before. He has that wide easy smile on his face once more as he saunters over to her chair and drops the bag on her lap.

"Got you a little something while I was out," he says and she opens the bag to peer inside.

To her surprise there are new clothes inside - jeans, a t-shirt and, as she rummages deeper, her hand brushes against something silky soft and she pulls out a pair of lacy red panties and a matching bra. They're the kind of thing she would never buy for herself in a million years but exactly the type of underwear men always seem to pick when they buy the women in their lives a gift. She hangs the panties from one finger and holds them up, giving Connor a questioning look. 

"Thought you'd be needing those," he smirks. 

"And how, exactly, did you know my size?!" 

"Oh, darlin', the day I can't look at a beautiful woman and know her exact measurements, is the day they put my cold dead body in the ground!"

Murphy mumbles something under his breath as he pushes past Connor and flops back in his chair, studiously ignoring what Lucia is holding in her hands. 

"Go on with ya, check 'em if ya don't believe me!" instructs Connor, crossing his arms, still smirking down at her. 

She checks the panties before flipping the label over on the bra to find that both are exactly right. She looks up at him incredulously and he throws his head back and laughs.

"Thinks it's some kind of super power," mutters Murphy from beside her. 

"Stow it, you," Connor says, barely throwing a glance in his direction before looking down at Lucia again.

Self-consciously, she stuffs the underwear back in the bag and drops it to the floor, pulling the laptop back up her thighs. Connor takes a seat on the arm of her chair, his arm resting across the back. 

"So, did you take care of what you needed to?" he asks, indicating the computer screen.

"Oh, yes, thanks. As much as I could anyway. They wiped out my bank account but I managed to cancel my cards."

She feels his hand come to rest on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, his thumb brushing against the top of her spine.

"Don't you be worrying your pretty head none about your money, lass. It's a new day tomorrow and who knows what it'll bring. I have a feeling your luck may be about to change."

Lucia turns her head to look up at him but he doesn't say anything else. Turning back to the computer, she stifles a yawn and realizes she’s suddenly incredibly tired. Although she slept nearly most of the day, her body is still recovering from a major shock and she knows that she should try to get back to as normal a sleep pattern as she can. Closing the lid on the computer, she hands it to Connor and stands up, grabbing the bag of clothes from beside her chair. 

"I think I'm going to turn in,” she states, feeling awkward as it dawns on her that she’s displaced Murphy from his room. “I mean, if that’s okay with you guys? I can find somewhere else to stay for the night if I’m in your way.”

“Hush now with your crazy talk,” scoffs Murphy, frowning up at her. “Of course you’re staying here, we insist on it. Where else would you go, some cheap-ass motel? No way. You’re staying right here where we can take care of you until you’re feeling up to dealing with things. No arguments, okay?”

Lucia nods, feeling the hot burn of tears in her eyes again and, impulsively, she bends down to kiss Connor's cheek, the scratch of his stubble momentarily pricking at her lips. Stepping past him, she leans down to do the same to Murphy, breathing in his scent once more.

"Goodnight guys. Thank you." 

She leaves the room and heads down the hallway without looking back. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

A banging door somewhere below her, accompanied by men shouting and the clanking of crates, pulls her out of her sleep the next morning. For a moment or two, she lays there looking at the unfamiliar ceiling before getting out of bed and heading into the small bathroom. There are clean towels hanging over the rail beside the bathtub and she wonders if the antique looking shower above it actually works. Stripping quickly, she turns the faucet and after a brief second of gurgling and whining, the pipes push out a healthy jet of fresh, warm water. She steps in and lets the water do its work, the grime and pain from the past couple of days disappearing down the drain as her body is massaged by the warm flow. She finds tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner as well as a mini bar of soap on the shelf beside the shower and laughs softly as she wonders what hotel they came from! Very gingerly she washes her hair taking care to keep her bandaged face away from the stream of water, wincing as her fingers find two good sized bumps on her skull. For the first time, she realizes just how lucky she was to get away with nothing more than cuts and bruises. 

Once out of the shower, she wipes the steam from the mirror over the sink and probes the edge of her bandage with her fingertips. For a moment she toys with the thought of removing the bandage but then decides against it, thinking she'd rather wait until a professional can do it. Not to mention that there's a part of her that's scared to see what damage lies underneath. Instead she cleans her teeth with the brand new toothbrush and mini tube of toothpaste she finds on the side of the sink. Smiling to herself, she wonders if it was Murphy who stocked the bathroom while she was sleeping. 

She dresses in her new clothes, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulls on the bra and panties Connor picked out. The jeans are a little snug on her curves but not enough to be uncomfortable and the t-shirt is maybe a little too low cut for her taste but it feels so good to be in clean clothes that she doesn’t really care. Everything is quiet and, when she enters the room at the end of the hall, she feels a little pang of disappointment to find it empty. She hesitates in the doorway, wondering if she should venture downstairs, when her eyes spot something sitting on the pool table with a piece of paper propped against it. Crossing the room, she finds a bagel with cream cheese wrapped in wax paper and a still warm coffee next to it in a take-out cup. The note simply reads, 'Back soon, M.' Taking the food over to the armchairs, setting the coffee by her feet, she reaches for the laptop before realizing she needs the password to unlock it. 

The phone she used from the night before is still on the arm of the chair and she flips it open, surprised to find the display saying it's only just after 9.00am. For some reason, she had assumed it was much later, her internal clock still messed up from the trauma and the narcotics she’s been taking. As she eats and sips her coffee, she dials into her answering machine at home to check her messages, hoping that it wasn’t destroyed. She feels like she hasn't been home in a lifetime but the reality is that it's only been two days and, apart from a semi-concerned message from one of her girlfriends wondering why she hasn't called her and declaring her a 'bitch', there's nothing really earth shattering in her voicemail. A couple of clients have left messages checking on projects they have commissioned from her and her heart grows heavy at the thought of her ruined apartment and all her lost work. 

She’s just debating how she’s going to contact everyone without her cellphone or her computer with all her work-related info on it, when the door to the room crashes open, making her jump and drop her coffee cup to the floor. She automatically reaches for it, snatching it up off the carpet before any escapes the lid. She looks up, about to chastise the brothers for scaring her but the words die on her lips as she takes in their appearance.


	3. Chapter 3

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Each of them is carrying a large box as they enter the room, Connor in the lead, a wicked looking gash above his right eye that’s trickling blood down the side of his face to drip on his shirt. There’s a dark shadowing along his jaw where the signs of a massive bruise are starting to show but his face is alight with something that brings all his features to life. His eyes are a crystal blue and his cheeks are flushed like he’s been working out. He’s grinning his widest grin as he puts his box on the floor in front of Lucia and steps aside to make way for Murphy. He knows that his eyes are sparking with the same fire that’s lighting up Connor like a beacon, blood is crusted under his nose and down his chin and one eye is half closed, the lid swelling over it. But his hands are worse, the knuckles torn apart, blood running in rivers down the backs of his hands and dripping to the floor as he sets his box down next to Connor’s. Lucia gapes at them, not even acknowledging the boxes in front of her as they stand there like some kind of avenging angels, bloodied and bruised.

Murphy watches her reaction, almost hearing the click as her mind locks into a revelation that has her leaping to her feet, scattering her breakfast but not seeming to care as she stares, open-mouthed, at them both.

"You..." she starts but the words won't seem to come and she swallows thickly to try again. “You guys are the Saints!"

Connor steps closer to Murphy, resting an elbow on his shoulder as he points a finger at her. 

"Ahh, Murph, it would appear that our guest has figured us out."

Murphy says nothing but his eyes never leave Lucia’s. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth as he waits for her to speak again, his whole body tensing as he waits on her judgment. His look is so intense that she has to look away and he sees her catch sight of the boxes at her feet. She drops to her knees as she realizes that both boxes are full of her belongings. She looks back up to them both and Murphy can see the tears of gratitude burning in her eyes. He can see her mind working over all the information she must have ever heard on the Saints since they first start making headlines - the violence, the deaths, the vigilantism – and, as she looks them up and down, he realizes that she must think that probably most or all of it is true. Slowly, she gets up and moves to stand in front of them, lifting her hands to place one on the side of each of their faces. She rests them there for a moment, making eye contact with each of them before dropping her hands to lightly press against each of their chests. She pats them gently, smiling up at them.

"Let's get you boys cleaned up."

Connor smiles broadly, clapping Murphy on the back and Murphy exhales deeply, wondering if the others can hear the pounding of his heart.

"Told you she'd be cool about it, if she knew," Connor says, walking away to lean against the pool table, fishing in his jeans until he pulls out a battered pack of smokes and his lighter.

Murphy is still watching her but the nervous lip biting has ceased with her unspoken acceptance of them. Lucia takes him by the elbow and steers him over to the pool table where the light is better. Gently taking his hands in hers, she examines the wounds across his knuckles which are still oozing blood. Both hands are a mess, making her wince in sympathy.

"Connor, please tell me you have some kind of medical supplies here? These are going to need bandages and iodine at the very least. And you may need stitches for that head wound. I won't know till I take a proper look." 

"Pfft, I'll be fine," he scoffs, "But I'll go find something for Mike Tyson here."

He hands Murphy his unfinished cigarette and heads out the door. Murphy takes a drag on the cigarette but, before he can finish it, Lucia snatches it from his lips and inhales deeply, holding the smoke in for as long as she can. She exhales slowly with a satisfied sigh, take one more drag and then putting it out in the ashtray sitting on the table.  

"Come on," she says, smiling at Murphy and he smiles shyly back at her. 

She takes him by the wrist and follows Connor out the door, leading him down the hallway to his room, where she takes him into the bathroom and starts running the cold water in the sink. The front of his dark grey t-shirt is soaked through with blood from his nose and she tells him to take it off. As he pulls it carefully over his head, being cautious not to catch it against his hands, he’s aware of her eyes on him and he feels a flush of self-consciousness spread over his skin. He meets her eyes as the shirt comes off, seeing a look of guilt flash across her features for a second before she reaches for his wrists again, turning his hands palm down as she guides them under the cool water. 

Murphy feels his muscles tense under her fingertips as the water hits his broken skin and he inhales sharply. Leaving him to hold his hands under the running tap, Lucia pulls the hand towel off the nearby hook and turns the tap on the bath to soak it with warm water. Reaching up to turn his face towards her, tilting his head back slightly so that she can clean the dried blood from his face, she gently wipes at his skin while the cold water soothes his tattered hands. Murphy holds his breath as the warmth of her body presses against his while she works, trying to curtail the unsolicited thoughts that are suddenly popping into his head. While he’s certainly not the blushing wallflower that Connor makes him out to be, he’s definitely choosier about the women he sleeps with and he can’t deny that he feels a certain attraction to Lucia. Whether it’s the whole damsel-in-distress thing, he couldn’t say, it’s too early for him to tell if it’s something more but there’s no question that her nearness is having an effect on him that he should probably be keeping in check right now. Thankfully Connor arrives, clutching a first aid kit in one hand and two beers in the other. The already tiny room suddenly seems that much smaller but Connor just squeezes past them to sit on the side of the tub, popping the tops off both beers and sitting Murphy's on the side of the sink.

"I didn't think ya'd want one, love," he tells Lucia when she gives him a disapproving look.

"It's barely 10:00am!" she replies, turning off the taps and drying Murphy's hands gently with a clean towel. 

"Fuck that! It's always 5 o'clock somewhere, darlin'!" 

He gives her an exaggerated wink and she shakes her head, laughing. Once Murphy's hands are dry she uncaps the iodine bottle from the first aid kit and prepares to pour it over his knuckles, looking up to meet his eyes.

"This is probably going to hurt like a bitch."

"I've had worse." 

He shrugs and she takes a breath before tipping the bottle over his skin. He flinches slightly but holds his hands in place as she blots off the excess and dresses his wounds, winding a bandage around each hand until she’s satisfied. He takes his beer and lowers the toilet lid to sit down and watch her work on Connor. The ugly bruise along Connor's jaw is deepening to an intense purple black color. Lucia runs the wet towel under the hot water, rinsing as much of Murphy's blood from it as she can before using it to wipe Connor's cheek clean. She swipes gently at the skin around the cut above his eye, cleaning it as best she can before soaking some gauze in the iodine and pressing it against it. Unlike his brother, Connor lets her know how much it hurts, cursing up a storm in multiple languages. With nearly all of the blood wiped away, she can see it's not as severe as she first thought so she applies some steri-strips across the cut and she’s done. 

The three of them look awkwardly at each other for a moment before Murphy mumbles something about going to look for a clean shirt and leaves. He pauses outside the bathroom door, peering through the crack along the hinges, hearing Lucia start to clean up their mess.

"Is he okay?" she asks quietly, throwing the bloodied towels into the sink to soak. 

"Yeah," Connor sighs, "he'll be fine. Turns out that your new friends from the other night have been busy terrorizing quite a few women in the area. Their place was full of stolen stuff along with a pile of empty purses and a stack of I.D.s. Let's just say Murph saw red. Gave those fuckers a good hiding before..."

He trails off and there’s silence for a moment then he sees Lucia lean over to take Connor’s face in her hands, planting a kiss on his forehead.

"Good. They got what they deserved."

Murphy turns away, treading softly on the old carpeting and goes into his room, throwing himself down on his bed with his hands behind his head wondering why Lucia’s display of affection towards Connor has given him an irrational flare of annoyance deep in his stomach. He barely has time to turn the thought over when she pushes open the door to his room and comes in, making him roll back off the bed to stand up and meet her. She walks to him without speaking and slips her arms around his waist, hugging him to her and tucking her head in under his chin. He freezes for a moment and then returns her embrace, wrapping his arms around her back to hold her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. They stand like that for a while and Murphy can practically feel the tension leaving his body, the last remnants of adrenalin from what he’d done that morning loosening his muscles. Finally, she pulls gently away from him and he smiles down at her.

"Oh! I nearly forgot something..."  

He rummages deep in the pocket of his jeans, then takes her hand and places her grandmother's ring on her palm. He closes her hand around it, holding her fingers in his and staring into her eyes.

"They'll never hurt you or another woman again, I promise you." he says, softly and she nods, reaching up to kiss his cheek before turning and leaving the room.

Pulling a clean shirt from the chest of drawers at the end of his bed, Murphy slips it on and follows Lucia to the main room where Connor is waiting, smoking a cigarette in one of the armchairs. Lucia has knelt at his feet and is examining the boxes containing her belongings so Murphy takes a spot on the floor beside her, sitting cross-legged and watching her. Connor nudges her with his knee and hands her his smoke which she takes a drag on before passing it over to Murphy. Unloading the first box, she checks over her laptop and tablet carefully, sighing in relief as finds them unscathed and then reaches into the second box, stretching her fingers between her printer and stereo speakers to pull out a roll of cash. She holds it up to the brothers, a questioning look on her face.

"Oh, aye, nearly forgot about that," says Connor. "They'd already unloaded your tv and dvd player, sorry, so we got you that instead."

Lucia snaps the rubber band off the roll and straightens out the cash, obviously doing a rough tally in her head as she flicks through the wad.

"Connor, there's nearly $3,000 here! I can't take all this. It's like ten times what my stuff was worth."

"You can and you will. Think of it as compensation for your... pain and suffering. Yeah, that's it! Pain and suffering. Isn't that what those hot shot lawyers are always getting people compensation for in the movies? And it's not like the assholes we got it from are gonna need it anymore."

He grins at her and she shakes her head in disbelief, looking at the small fortune - for her at least - in her hand. 

"Okay, but at least take this." 

She peels off a few bills from the outer layer and hands them to him. 

"For the clothes," she says, "and the food and lodging. Give it to your friend with my thanks."

He takes it with a nod, knowing better than to insult her by refusing it even though neither of them has a problem with cash flow.

"So..." Connor asks, pointing a finger at her chest and circling it to encompass her whole torso, "How's that lingerie feel, huh?!" 

"Connor!" Murphy shouts at him, throwing a cushion from the chair behind him at his head which he easily bats aside.

"What?! I was just asking out of concern for Lucia's well-being. I'd hate for her to be uncomfortable!"

Lucia, however, totally ignores him and turns back to the box, squealing triumphantly when she finds her cellphone hiding at the bottom. It's dead of course but Murphy can tell she’s just happy to have it back. He watches as she also finds the keys to her apartment and slips them into her pocket.

“Fuck!” says Connor suddenly. “We’ve got to go or we’re gonna be late.”

“Aye,” replies Murphy, standing up and reaching down to pull Lucia to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asks, confused.

“Well you have an appointment to see the doc about your…” Murphy wiggles his fingers in front of his cheek.

“Oh!” she exclaims and he can see the color drain from her face a little as Connor leads the way out of the room and down to the car.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Murphy holds open the door for Lucia into the plush waiting room where Connor immediately makes a beeline for the reception desk. He greets the girl seated there with his million watt smile and perches on the edge of her desk, flirting shamelessly with her. Murphy steers Lucia to the empty seating area, taking the seat next to her, his long legs stretching out in front of him. His body is angled towards her, his arm pressed comfortably against hers. He watches as she picks nervously at the seam on her jeans, stretching out a hand to take hers in it, wrapping his fingers around hers to still them. He feels her take a deep breath and exhale it slowly, trying to calm herself.

They both watch Connor work his charm on the receptionist, leaning in to whisper in her ear while he toys with her hair, eliciting a high pitched giggle from her. After a few minutes a door opens behind her desk and she scoots away from Connor with a guilty look on her face. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman comes out, looking first at Murphy and then, with undisguised disgust, at Connor who is still perched nonchalantly on the desk. Murphy watches her eyes narrow as she takes in the worn wool coat, ripped jeans and the Virgin Mary tattooed on his brother’s neck. The bruising along his jaw and the cut above his eye make her press her lips together in a thin, harsh line. Murphy’s jaw clenches a little as if he can hear her judging him as clearly as if she were saying it out loud and it makes his blood boil a little. He almost opens his mouth to say something when the door opens again and James pokes his head out.

“Doc!” says Connor, sliding off the desk and greeting him with a handshake and a hearty backslap.

“Connor,” James returns warmly.

Murphy gets up, still holding Lucia’s hand and they cross the room together, giving the woman at the reception desk his dirtiest look as he passes her. James shakes Murphy’s hand as he approaches, eyeing the bandages wrapping his knuckles but not mentioning it. Then he turns to Lucia, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Ah, our mystery woman! You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you. Being conscious is a definite improvement. I’m James, by the way.”

“Lucia,” she replies, shaking his hand.

“Well, why don’t you come in, Lucia and I’ll take a look at you.”

He steps aside to let her enter first and then blocks the door as the twins make to follow her in.

“I’ve got this boys,” he says, laughing, “I’ll get to you two next.”

He closes the door and Connor resumes his relentless pursuit of the receptionist while Murphy paces anxiously behind her desk, looking for all the world like an expectant father awaiting the birth of his first child.

When James re-opens the door and lets them in, Murphy heads straight for where Lucia is sitting, concern etched on his face as he sees that James has removed the bandage, exposing the rawness of her wound. She smiles to reassure him that she’s fine and he grins back, sinking into the seat next to her. Connor comes over to stand in front of her, taking her chin gently between his fingers and thumb and tilting her head so he can get a good look at her face.

“Makes you look like a fucking badass!” he says, with a smirk, bumping her chin with his knuckles before hopping up to sit on the doc’s desk.

James turns to Connor first, examining the wound over his eye and feeling the edge of his jaw which is now an inky black. Connor hisses between his teeth at the probing but doesn’t turn his head.

“Is this all there is?” James asks.

“Aye, doc, an easy job for you today,” Connor chuckles.

“For a change,” replies James, turning his attention to Murphy and, after examining his eye, carefully cutting away the dressings on his hands.

He winces in sympathy at the sight of Murphy’s ravaged knuckles but, after a quick once over, he nods to himself and re-bandages them with fresh dressings and some kind of ointment which he spreads on first.

“Anything else?” he asks once he’s done.

Murphy shakes his head, flexing his newly bandaged hands.

“Good,” says James, peeling off his gloves and washing his hands at the small sink in the corner. “Any day I don’t have to use a needle and thread on you guys is a good day in my books.”

While his back is turned, Connor takes a framed picture of his daughter from his desk and silently hands it to Murphy with a smile. James comes back from the sink and gently takes the picture from Murphy, smiling down at it, before placing it carefully back in its prime location on his desk.

“So, doc,” Murphy says, “how’s our girl?”

“A handful!” replies James. “She keeps telling me all about the tattoo she’s going to get when she’s 18! I wonder where she could have gotten that idea from.”

Murphy points an accusing finger at Connor, who laughs.

“Can’t stifle her creativity, doc. Got to let the lass express herself now, haven’t we?”

Connor holds out a hand to James, who shakes it warmly as Lucia and Murphy get up to leave.

“Later, doc,” says Murphy, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes.

Lucia tries to thank James as they go out but he waves off her words, resting a hand on her arm and staring her straight in the eye.

“They’re righteous men, Lucia, without question. Don’t ever let anyone tell you any different and don’t ever forget it.”

She nods her agreement, her fingers seeking out Murphy’s waiting hand and squeezing it, as James sees them to the door.  

Crossing the parking lot, she suddenly stops dead, her fingers pulling from Murphy’s hand.

“Guys.”

They turn to look at her from beside the car, Connor in the middle of lighting a cigarette and handing it to Murphy.

“Can you drop me off back at my apartment?” she asks, her voice determined. “I want to- I need to deal with what’s there.”

Murphy throws a glance at Connor, seeing him get that little furrow of concern between his eyebrows that appears when he thinks something is a bad idea.

“Are you sure, love? Maybe it’s still a little soon,” he questions her.

“Maybe, but I have to face it sometime and I’d rather just deal with it and move on. I’ll be fine. At least I know what I’m walking into this time. No freakouts, I promise,” she says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“But you’re not staying there?” Murphy asks, once again chewing on his bottom lip at the thought of her leaving them so soon.

“I- no, I can’t do that. I know they’re never coming back and I know it’s safe but somehow, it’s just not my home anymore. It’s almost like they violated a part of me, if that makes sense. I just want to pack up my stuff, give my landlord my notice and find somewhere else to go.”

“You’re staying with us,” says Murphy quickly, looking to Connor who nods in affirmation.

“Well, maybe another night or two,” she says hesitantly, “just while I find someplace else to rent as long as it’s okay with your friend and he doesn’t mind me storing my stuff there.”

Connor walks over to hook an arm around her neck and lead her to the car.

“As long as you need, lass, as long as you need. Nobody minds. In fact we insist on it, don’t we, Murph?”

“Aye,” replies Murphy, holding open the car door for her, relief filling him as she smiles at him and climbs into the back seat.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

After a quick detour to pick up packing supplies, Lucia persuades the brothers to drop her off at her apartment, insisting that this is something she needs to do by herself. Murphy, naturally, is dead-set against this idea, arguing with her for a good five minutes before he finally stomps back to the car, getting in and slamming the door behind him, eyeing her through the glass. Connor gives her a ‘what can you do?’ shrug and says they’ll be back to pick her up in a few hours. They pull away from the curb, Murphy watching in the wing mirror until her building disappears from view and then slumping down into his seat, thumping the sole of his boot against the dash.

“Chill, brother,” Connor tells him, reaching out his arm to backhand Murphy’s chest.

“One of us should’ve stayed with her,” Murphy grumbles, shoving Connor’s hand away. “She shouldn’t be on her own.”

“Aah, she’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Connor answers, racing the car to narrowly beat a red light. “I think that lass is a lot tougher than you’re givin’ her credit for.”

“Maybe, but I still think we shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“You mean you shouldn’t have left her,” Connor tells him with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t,” warns Murphy.

“Don’t what?” Connor asks in a tone of mock innocence. “Come on, little brother, I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her, I’m not fuckin’ blind. You’re all kinds of sweet on her.”

“No, I’m not,” replies Murphy but he knows his denials are useless against his brother, there have never been any secrets between them since the day they were born.

“Is that right?” laughs Connor. “Look, I’m not saying ya shouldn’t have a bit o’ fun, brother but just watch yourself. If you want to fuck her, then fuck her but don’t go all hearts and flowers over this chick, you know it’ll just end in trouble.”

“How do I know? How the fuck do you?” Murphy spits out, a little more harshly than he intended to.

“Because, my dear brother, that’s our penance. We don’t get to live normal lives and have normal relationships with nice women like Lucia. Our lives are blood and fire and fear. That path was set the minute those Russians walked into the bar that night and it’s not fair to pull someone like her into our madness.”

“And if she wants to be a part of it?”

“No. It doesn’t happen. The fact that she knows could be trouble enough for her. Don’t you be complicating things by fallin’ in love with her now. We’re going to help her out, give her a place to stay for as long as she wants after what those animals did to her but that’s it.”

Murphy falls silent as he contemplates Connor’s words, knowing that he’s right and hating him for it. When destiny had knocked on their door and put guns in their hands in the name of justice, it had felt so right that Murphy had wondered why he hadn’t been doing it since he could walk. He had never stopped to consider his future - their future - it seemed futile considering what they did but now his mind was picking at the possibilities and he wasn’t liking the answers he was coming up with.

Back at McGinty’s, Connor takes the time to explain to Doc that they’re having a guest stay with them for a few days or more while Murphy heads upstairs and starts clearing out one of the other rooms at the far end of the hall. Years ago, McGinty’s had been a thriving business with both floors open for business, the pool room had housed two full-sized tables and Doc had rented out the other rooms for a tidy sum. As the economy had declined, his tenants had gradually left and it had no longer been viable for him to keep both floors open so the upstairs had fell into disuse making it the perfect place for the brothers to lie low. Connor soon joins him and the two of them work side by side to make the largest of the bedrooms and its en-suite habitable for Lucia even if it’s only on a temporary basis. They clean the grimy windows until the sun shines brightly back in and clear out all the boxes and accumulated junk until the room is practically bare apart from a single bed and a small dresser. The room has bare, varnished floorboards, Doc having learned long ago that carpets and tenants don’t mix, and Connor finds a rolled up rug in one of the other rooms that is still in pretty good condition, laying it down beside the bed once they’ve swept the floor.

By the time Murphy has found clean linen and made the bed, it’s time for them to go pick up Lucia and he heads downstairs feeling happy at the thought of her seeing what they’ve done. They’ve borrowed a small van from one of the regulars at the bar and, for once, Connor lets Murphy drive, saying he needs a nap after all the hard work he’s done. By the time Murphy pulls up in front of Lucia’s building, Connor is happily snoring with his head resting down on his chest and Murphy takes great delight in laying on the horn to wake him up with a startled yelp. Sniggering to himself, Murphy leads the way inside, both brothers stopping in their tracks when they hear the sound of raised voices coming from around the corner on the first floor. Murphy immediately recognizes Lucia’s voice, her obvious annoyance thickening her accent, and he makes to take off around the corner when Connor puts a warning hand on his arm and raises a finger to his lips. Murphy practically dances on the spot, his body ready to spring into action but he heeds Connor’s request and the two of them listen to the heated conversation going on. It only takes them a couple of minutes to figure out that Lucia’s landlord is trying to cheat her out of her deposit because he says she’s breaking her lease early even though she keeps telling him that her rent is paid until the end of the month and, as it’s only the 15th, she should be covered. He argues back that as she’s vacating the premises, rent or no rent, she doesn’t get her deposit back. When Murphy hears the tremor in her voice as she explains that she’ll need that money to use as a deposit on a new place, he sees red and not even Connor can stop him from barreling around the corner and coming to a stop at Lucia’s side. Reassuring himself that she's okay, he faces off with her landlord, the man’s overweight bulk dwarfing the door to his office, his straining t-shirt barely covering his beer gut, and Murphy’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Are ya having a problem here, Lucia?” Murphy asks punctuating his words with the click-snap of his lighter as he ignites a cigarette.

The landlord’s eyes flick to the ‘No Smoking’ sign posted on the wall by his door and then he looks back at Murphy, taking in the dark glasses, the cigarette clamped between his lips and the flex of his muscles as he folds one arm over the other, the Gaelic cross tattoo on his forearm rippling as his skin moves. The man’s eyes slip quickly across to where Connor has come up on the other side of Lucia, a mirror image of Murphy down to the last detail. He looks from one of them to the other, some of the ruddy color draining from his cheeks and then mumbles something about everything being fine and there not being a problem. When Murphy and Connor don’t move, he uncomfortably shuffles his feet and reluctantly tells Lucia he’ll go get her deposit, disappearing into his office as fast as his bulk will allow. Lucia turns her head to look at Connor who lifts his glasses to wink impishly at her and she tries to stifle a giggle as her landlord comes back to the door, an envelope of cash in his hand. She takes it and he tells her to drop her keys in his mailbox when she leaves before rapidly closing the door on all of them.

As soon as he’s gone, she looks to the brothers, standing there with self-satisfied smirks on their faces and gives them a big smile, holding up the envelope of cash.

“Looks like I’m buying the beers tonight!”

“Fuck yeah!” says Connor, grinning at her.

“C’mon, let’s get your stuff, so we can take advantage of your generous nature” adds Murphy, who hooks his arm through hers and starts pulling her towards the stairs, his earlier annoyance at her easily forgotten.

Lucia is delighted to see the van they’ve brought and, as they load the last of her boxes into the back, she tells Connor what a good idea it was.

“We’re not just a couple of dumb Micks, ya know!” he says in an indignant voice. “Well… not always anyway! We can plan ahead when the situation requires it.”

“So, who’s van is it?” she asks.

“A friend’s.”

“And does he know you borrowed it?!”

“Aye, of course! At least he will when he wakes up and sees it gone.”

Connor dissolves into laughter as Murphy elbows past him to load another box in the van, adding his voice to the conversation.

“We were doing our civic duty. The auld fella was three sheets to the wind. It would’ve been morally wrong of us not to take his keys.”

“Aye, he’ll sleep it off for a few hours at the bar and, when he wakes up, he’ll be none the wiser.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two,” Lucia says, laughing.

Murphy throws an arm around Connor and gives her his broadest smile.

“Well, ya have to love us now, don’t ya? We’re very loveable.”

“Yes, we are,” adds Connor.

She rolls her eyes, pushing them towards the front of the van where Connor slips into the driver’s side and she sits in the middle, a little squashed against Murphy but he doesn’t mind in the least. While they bicker over what to listen to on the radio, hands slapping at each other across her, she just sits back and Murphy sees her smiling to herself, seeming as though the weight of the past few days has subsided to a manageable level.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

As Connor pulls the van in to park at the rear of the bar, Doc is standing at the back door and, when Lucia climbs down, he comes over to greet her, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“Ah, boys, you were right, she’s a pretty one that’s for sure,” he says, stuttering a little over his words. “They call me Doc, lass, this is my place.”

“Hi Doc, I’m Lucia,” she tells him, blushing a little at his words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I want to thank you for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”

A smile breaks out on his ruddy face, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses and he squeezes her hand.

“Don’t even mention it. It’s not much but the boys said you needed help and I’ve got plenty of room. You stay as long as you want, lass. After all a trouble shared comes to he who waits.”

Connor comes to her rescue, seeing the puzzled look on her face and takes her hand from Doc’s, folding it into his own.

“Doc, don’t be confusing Lucia with your crazy talk, she’s had a rough weekend.”

“Ahh, shut up ye little shit… Fuck…Arse… I don’t want any of your lip,” Doc grumbles, shaking his fist in Connor’s direction.

“Oh yeah? And what’re ya gonna do about it old man, huh?” taunts Connor, bouncing about in front of him.

“I’m not so old’s I can’t teach you a lesson ya idjit! Now get Lucia’s stuff unloaded before Big Pete wakes up and tans both ya hides for taking his van!”

With that, he retreats back into the bar, giving Lucia a cheery wave as he departs and they can all hear faint cursing as he disappears. She looks from Connor to Murphy.

“Is he okay… you know..?” she asks, swirling her finger by her head.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Murphy chuckles, unlocking the van’s rear doors, “You’ll soon get used to him.”

The three of them grab boxes and head up the stairs to Lucia’s new room, Murphy telling her that it’s not much but they hope she likes it. Letting her go in ahead of them, she pushes the door open with her hip, her eyes widening in surprise and she almost drops the box she’s holding, juggling to keep a grip on it. She sets it down on the bed as she stares around the room, taking in the large, bright windows and gleaming floors.

“We cleaned as best we could,” Murphy says, worried that her silence means that she doesn’t like it, that she’s comparing it to what she left behind and it’s coming up pitifully short. “You’ll need some curtains, of course, and there’s more furniture if you want it. I know it’s not exactly five star but…”

She spins around, eyes shining, and launches herself first at Murphy and then Connor, planting large, smacking kisses on each of their cheeks.

“I think she likes it, Connor!” says Murphy, busying himself by stacking his box against the wall to hide his obvious relief and the flush he can feel on his face from her exuberant kiss.

“I love it!” she exclaims, running over to check out the huge closet next to the bathroom. “You guys didn’t have to do all this though, it’s too much really.”

“Pfft… it was nothin’,” replies Connor, adding his box to Murphy’s. “We want you stay as long as you need. Might do us some good to have a woman’s touch around the place for a while.”

“Aye,” says Murphy, with a smirk, “we could do with someone to take care of the cooking and the laundry.”

Lucia sticks her tongue out at him, punching his shoulder as she follows him back down the stairs to get more boxes and he knows that, despite Connor’s warning to the contrary, he’s definitely starting to have some kind of attachment to this woman.


	4. Chapter 4

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_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Once everything is unloaded, Lucia shoos the brothers out of her new room so she can take a shower to wash off the day’s grime. The bathroom has been rigorously scrubbed and there’s still the faint odor of Lysol in the air as Lucia lets the water rush over her, noting that the tub is stocked with the same hotel miniatures as Murphy’s room was. Drying herself on the clean towels hanging from the rack, she makes a mental note to ask the brothers about their supply of tiny toiletries. Tentatively she approaches the mirror over the sink, wiping away the steam to take her first look at her exposed face. Although the steri strips are covering most of it, she can still see the wicked looking line running from her cheek, past the corner of her eye and reaching almost to her hairline. Tears well in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall thinking that she’s alive and that’s all that matters. She carefully styles her hair to cover that side of her face and then rummages through her suitcases until she finds something she wants to wear. That afternoon she had laundered everything that she owned, whether it looked like it had been touched or not, using every drop of detergent she had in the place until she was satisfied that nothing had any trace of her attackers on it any longer.

A small wave of nausea overcomes her and she sits down on her bed for a moment, the unfamiliar frame squeaking beneath her weight, and thinks about the monumental cleaning job she’d done that afternoon. The devastation had been, if anything, even worse than she remembered and there was the added distress of a foul odor permeating the place so that she’d had to throw all the windows wide before she could do anything else. Without looking inside she had closed the bathroom door, wanting absolutely nothing that was inside and she felt a little better once it was blocked from her sight. She’d made countless trips to the garbage chute to dispose of her ruined bedding, curtains and all the spoiled food from the kitchen.

About half an hour into her clean up, feeling more than a little daunted by what had to be done, Lucia had suddenly turned a mental corner, looking at what had happened as an opportunity to clear some of the clutter, both physical and mental, from her life. The work gave her a sense of purpose as she sorted through her belongings, making piles outside her door of items to be donated that she no longer wanted or needed until she was left with a neat stack of boxes, two battered suitcases and her easel. The only thing that had given her pause and caused her to shed a few tears was cleaning up her studio area. She salvaged what art supplies she could from the mangled mess on the floor but most of it was beyond saving. She had spent years building up this collection and, while the practical part of her mind was telling her it could all be replaced, her heart was mourning them as if losing old friends. She was thankful that the apartment had come furnished and that she hadn’t had to worry about hauling furniture with her to her new place, wherever that may be.

For now this is home, she thinks, looking around the almost empty space that she knew the brothers must have worked so hard on that afternoon and, taking a deep breath, she gets up and goes in search of them. The pool room is empty but now that she’s been introduced to Doc she feels a little less awkward about going down to the bar alone. The brothers are already seated at the bar and wave her over as soon as she tentatively pushes open the private door at the far side of the room. She takes a seat between them on one of the wooden barstools and gets her first really good look around while Doc pours her a beer. The bar is typical in its Irish stereotypes, from the Guinness signs to the picture of the gun-toting leprechaun behind the bar declaring ‘In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash!’ but still there’s a homey feel to the place and it puts her instantly at ease. There are only a few other patrons in sight, including an enormous guy passed out in one of the booths at the back who she assumes is Big Pete. She makes a mental note to buy him another beer if he wakes up anytime soon.

The beer and the conversation keeps flowing all night, the brothers introducing her to all the regulars and entertaining her with whispered stories about everyone she meets. As the bar fills up, getting noisier and smokier, it appears to Lucia that there isn’t anybody that walks through the door that they don’t know. After a while she gives up trying to remember people’s names and just goes with the flow, following what conversations she can and just observing faces when she can’t.

At some point the beer turns to whiskey and, even though it’s not her drink of choice and she probably shouldn’t be drinking at all with the meds she’s been taking, she still matches the brothers shot for shot as long as she can before shaking her head and letting them carry on without her. She does, however, insist on paying for their drinks all night and though Doc refuses her money at the start, she makes sure that the other bartender, a sallow looking girl with a permanent scowl and too much make up by the name of Colleen, takes her cash for every round when Doc’s back is turned. Connor, who Lucia is learning sees everything, leans into her side, his whiskey breath warm against her cheek and his hand resting comfortably on her thigh as he thanks her and tells her that Doc had been through a rough time recently, almost losing the bar until a mysterious windfall came his way and kept his business open. Connor lightly kisses her cheek before settling back on his own stool and picking up his drink to toast her with.

She notices Colleen at the far end of the bar, her scowl even more pronounced as she dries glasses with a worn towel and stares in Lucia’s direction. For a second she wonders what she’s done and then realization dawns, so she turns to Murphy to ask him if he knows that Colleen is sweet on Connor, only to find he’s also staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Lucia asks him what’s wrong but he ignores her, signaling Doc for another shot, which he finishes in one gulp before sliding off his seat. He staggers for a second, grabbing the bar for support and Lucia hears Connor laugh behind her.

“Never could hold your liquor, could you, baby brother? I sometimes wonder how we’re even related.”

“Fuck you!” Murphy’s words are a little slurred but still strong. “I sometimes wonder why we’re related.”

With that, he pushes off from the bar and heads across the room to the door that leads upstairs, bumping into pretty much everyone on his way and cursing loudly. The door crashes into the wall as he lurches through it and Lucia looks to the still-laughing Connor who just shrugs at the unspoken question on her face.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, waving a hand in Murphy’s general direction. “Now, how about we have another round, huh?”

She agrees reluctantly, looking across at the door Murphy exited through, wondering if he’s okay and if she should go after him. She waits a few minutes and then, when Connor is distracted telling a story to the rest of the bar about some guy he once made a bet with, she slips away across the room and through the door to the back hall. As it closes behind her, the bar sounds become muffled and she realizes that her ears are ringing slightly either from the noise or the alcohol. Probably a bit of both, she thinks, as she rounds the bottom of the staircase, only to find Murphy collapsed in a heap halfway up. His head is resting against the wall and his eyes are closed, making the purple bruising on his skin stand out even more.

Lucia climbs the stairs until she’s standing just below him, then reaches out a tentative hand to touch his knee. He swipes at it without opening his eyes.

“Fuck off, Connor, I’m sleeping,” he mumbles.

“Murphy,” she says, squeezing his knee and shaking it a little. “Murphy, it’s me Lucia.”

His eyes flash open, the bruised one stopping halfway, as he tries to focus on her.

“Oh hi,” he replies with a lopsided smile. “I was just going to bed, Luu-chee-ahhh”

He draws her name out, rolling it off his tongue and then giving a small giggle which ends in a hiccup. She tries not to laugh as she holds out a hand and pulls him up off his ass, wrapping his arm around her neck and placing hers around his waist to steady him. She draws him slowly up the stairs and along the landing to his room, taking a lot of his weight to stop him tripping over his own feet, while he murmurs something under his breath the whole way. The only word she can make out clearly is ‘Connor’.

The door to his room is closed tight, so she props him against one hip while she turns the handle. When she pulls him inside, she feels him tugging out of her grasp and, as she tries to compensate, he somehow manages to swing her around until he has her pressed up against the wall. She gives a little gasp as his body flattens against hers, her brain and mouth both trying to form words which get cut off as his head suddenly dips towards her and he mashes his lips to hers. His kiss is wet and rough, his breath sour from the whiskey and his tongue is practically ravaging her mouth. His hands are firm on her hips, holding her in place beneath him. For a moment, her body betrays her and she pushes up into his kiss, hands clawing at his shirt, tongue fighting against his and then her brain kicks in and she breaks apart from him, pushing him away from her. He staggers back a few steps and she pretends that she doesn’t see the hurt look on his face.

Turning, she runs from the room, hearing his voice call her name as she slams her door behind her and leans against it, heart pounding. She stands there for an undetermined amount of time, the taste of him still fresh on her lips, her mind reeling at the sudden onslaught of emotions she’s feeling. So much has happened to her in the past couple of days that she barely knows which way is up and, while she’ll always be eternally grateful to both Murphy and Connor, she knows she’d be crazy to think of pursuing anything with either of them, especially now. Finally she pushes away from the door and gets changed into her pajamas, feeling secure in the knowledge that Murphy isn’t going to be knocking on her door anytime soon. She tells herself that his advances and her response were nothing more than the result of the alcohol they’d consumed and it didn’t mean anything.

As she climbs into bed and closes her eyes against the slight spinning of the room, her mind contradicts what she’s been telling it and furnishes her instead with an image of Murphy as he had stood before her in the bathroom, stripped to the waist while she had tended to his wounds. Her artist’s memory recalls every muscle and line of his torso, the rigid definition of his arms and stomach and the way his hipbones had peeked above the waist of his low slung jeans. His shoulders had seemed impossibly broad and her eyes had been drawn to his tattoos that had been hidden by his clothing – one on the right side of his chest, a name she couldn’t quite make out without him catching her staring and the other, a small winged demon, high up on the underside of his arm. A smattering of dark hair had covered his chest between his nipples and, as she had lowered her gaze, she’d also seen a dark trail leading down from his navel and into his jeans. As she drifts off to sleep, the last thought on her mind is wondering what it would be like to scratch her nails through that patch of hair and she moans softly into the darkness.  

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The next morning she wakes to find she’s been sleeping on the wounded side of her face and, as she lifts her head from the pillow, a fresh wave of pain needles across her cheek making her stomach roil and heave slightly. Sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth, she waits until the queasy sensation passes and she feels she can get up and take a shower without throwing up.

Feeling a little more human after she’s done in the bathroom, she heads down the hall to the pool room, pausing for a moment outside Murphy’s door. A deep snoring reverberates through the wood and she continues on, peeking into the open doorway of Connor’s room, only to find his bed hasn’t been slept in at all. The smell of fresh coffee stops her at the top of the stairs and she changes direction, heading down to the bar instead.

There’s no sign of Connor or Doc but the coffee-maker is gurgling happily away to itself, so she grabs a mug and helps herself, taking a seat at the bar and picking up a newspaper she guesses Doc left behind. She idly flicks through it, not really reading it, her mind drifting to the previous night and always coming back to Murphy’s kiss. Lucia buries her face in her hands, hot tears threatening to fall, cursing herself for following him from the bar the night before. The last thing she wants to do is mess this up after he and Connor have been so good to her, taking her in and setting her on her feet. She can’t imagine what would have happened to her if she’d had to go through this alone.

The sudden clanking of the coffee-pot being slid from its cradle startles her out of her thoughts and she looks up to find Murphy pouring himself a mug. He looks bedraggled, hair going in every direction, his one good eye bloodshot with a dark circle under it, the other still half closed. Her eyes track him as he comes around the bar, setting his coffee on the scarred top and climbing onto the stool next to hers with a groan. He stretches his arm out across the bar and lays his head on it, looking up at her with a half-smile.

“Man, I was so wasted last night. Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid?”

She tries not to let her relief show as she shoves him playfully in the ribs.

“You mean apart from the naked Riverdancing?”

He slaps a hand across his face as she laughs loudly, overjoyed that he doesn’t seem to remember what happened between them and she doesn’t have to deal with an awkward scene.

“Poor baby,” she says, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

He crosses his arms and rests his chin on them, closing his eyes. She pushes his coffee closer and nudges his elbow gently, holding out a cigarette which he takes eagerly, placing it between his lips and fishing for his lighter.

“Ahh, God Bless ya, love”

He lights up and then holds the flame for her to light her own cigarette, flicking it shut when she’s done.

“So where’s Connor?” he asks, eyes narrowing against the smoke.

“I have no clue,” she replies, “I got here about ten minutes before you did. Place was deserted.”

“Huh, probably took Colleen home. Not always thinking with the big head is our Connor. That one is trouble but he’ll just keep poking at it until it turns around and bites him in the arse.”

“So, they date?” she asks, thinking that would explain Colleen’s reaction to Connor giving Lucia attention at the bar last night.

Murphy snorts into his coffee.

“Well now, I wouldn’t exactly call it dating, if you get my meaning?”

“Oh!”

A twinge of something flares briefly in her gut. Annoyance? Jealousy? She quickly squashes it down. She has no claim on these guys and she knows it, just because they’ve taken her in doesn’t make them suddenly hers. They had lives before she arrived and there’s nothing to say anything should change now that she’s here and she just has to accept that. Besides, she’s just been through a major trauma followed by a total upheaval of her life, the last thing she needs is to complicate things further by adding sex into the mix. Just find your feet, she thinks to herself, and take care of yourself for a while.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

And that’s just what she does, she takes care of herself, getting her life back together, turning her small room into a studio where she can work during the day. With the money the brothers gave her, she replenishes her lost art supplies and goes about reaching out to her existing clients, telling them she’d had an accident but she’s recovering and slowly getting back to work. Most of them are understanding and those that aren’t, she appeases with promises of prioritizing their work and reducing their fees.

She contacts her friends, telling them that she’s moved from her apartment but being just vague enough about where she is that they won’t come looking for her. She doesn’t feel that she’s ready to see them just yet, knowing she’ll have to re-hash everything that happened and answer endless questions. Right now, she just wants to be safe in this new world she’s been made a part of. Her initial intention of only staying a couple of nights is soon forgotten as she adjusts to living above the bar with the brothers until she already feels like it’s home and she makes it official by insisting that Doc takes rent from her. She furnishes her room to her liking and unpacks her belongings with a sense of relief. The bar is an endless source of inspiration to her and soon the regulars don’t even pay attention to her when she sits most nights, hidden away at the end of the bar, notebook and pen in hand, sketching the endless variety of characters that cross her path.

Most of the time, either Connor, Murphy or both will join her but she’s equally as happy to sit there alone. Nobody bothers her and Doc is always on hand with a cheery, if somewhat strange, conversation. She even tries her hand at helping out behind the bar one night when Colleen calls out sick but soon figures out that she sucks at it as Doc shoos her back to her seat after the fourth pint she pours that’s all foam and very little beer. She feels bad because she wants to repay him for taking her in but he always claims she doesn’t need to thank him and she doesn’t know what else to do.

“You know what you should do,” suggests Connor, one night when she’s sitting at her usual spot by the bar, sketching Big Pete who’s face down on the bar, snoring like a bear. “You should paint the bar.”

She looks at him quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean paint it, like decorate it, I mean you should put some of your art on the walls. Paint a mural or something. Brighten the miserable place up.”

She looks around, eyes drawn to the long wall at the back, above the booths, as she considers his words, an idea already forming in her mind.

“Do you think Doc would go for that?”

“I think he’d be proud as punch, love, don’t you hear the way he tells everybody he has a real artist living in his place?” Connor smiles, gently nudging against her side.

She blushes, automatically tilting her head down so her hair swings across to hide her face. Over the weeks her face has healed but the scar left behind has made her self-conscious and she’s always aware of its presence, feeling the skin pucker around it with every expression she makes. She’s never been a vain person in any sense of the word but it makes her feel uncomfortable when people notice it, seeing the disgust or the sympathy in their eyes. More and more, she’s taken to staying in the bar or her studio and not venturing out unless she has to. She video-conferences her meetings with clients and couriers her work to them when it’s complete, whereas before she would always deliver it by hand. In the beginning she told herself that she just needed time to heal and adjust but, as the days passed by, she’s begun to feel less inclined to leave the safety of her new home.

Lucia knows the brothers are worried about her, trying to entice her on outings with them, but she keeps making excuses, telling herself she’ll go the next time. Instead, she cooks them elaborate meals, laughing as they fight over every bite and she distracts them by having them tell her stories of their exploits. She learns about their initiation into the ‘business’ they’re in, about the life and death of their friend Rocco and how their father has moved back to Ireland to lay low and provide a safe escape should they ever need it.

The nights they go out on a ‘job’, she waits up, heart heavy until she hears them on the stairs and then she silently helps them clean up, dressing what wounds she can or calling James if she can’t. He always comes immediately, never a question, patching them up with a grim sense of duty and making sure he keeps her medical kit stocked up. Some nights the fire of righteousness is burning so bright within them that she almost feels she could reach out and touch it and those nights usually end in a drunken celebration, no matter what battle scars they’ve earned. But other nights find them coming home, eyes dull and faces grim, and those are the nights she brings them each a single shot of whiskey and sits quietly with them until the mood passes.

They don’t try to shield her from what they do, she’s made it quite clear that it’s not her place to judge them, but they don’t involve her in it either. She’s quite aware that they’re well-armed but she never sees a weapon once they’re home and she doesn’t go looking for them. This is their fight, their cause, and, while she supports them completely, she has no inclination to be a part of it. When they come home, covered in blood that’s not their own, she never asks for details, just one question – what was their crime? Connor is always the one with the answer, face etched in stone, and it’s usually the same.

“Selling drugs to the kiddies down at Copley Square. A good family lost a son this week.”

Then she’ll sigh to herself, raise a glass with them in respect and wonder if they’ll ever be able to quit this life they’ve made for themselves.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

As Connor predicted, Doc is overjoyed at her suggestion that she paint something on the bar wall for him, so once she’s prepped the area, she starts spending part of her mornings down there. After each session, she hangs a drop-cloth over her work and has everyone swear an oath not to peek until she’s finished. Once the bar opens for the day, she retires back upstairs to concentrate on her actual work. Most afternoons, her door will open and Murphy will stroll in, kicking off his boots and throwing himself on her bed like he owns the place, and he’ll keep her company. The first few times she felt a little self-conscious, especially if she was working at her easel rather than the computer, as she wasn’t used to having an audience to her creative process but she soon got used to him being there. More often than not, he’ll fall asleep on her bed and she’ll find herself ignoring what she should be doing to sketch him instead, loving the angles of his face, the darkness of his lashes against his cheeks and the small crease between his eyebrows that doesn’t ever seem to leave him, even in sleep.

One lunchtime, she’s in her bathroom, washing the morning’s paint from her hands when she hears her bedroom door open. She leans back to look out from the bathroom but instead of Murphy, she finds Connor standing there with an easy grin on his face.

“What?” she asks, knowing he’s up to something.

“We’re going out. Get your stuff.”

“Connor, I can’t. I have work to do. Maybe tomorrow.”

He looks at her for a moment, hands on hips, then shakes his head and walks forward to grab her wrist gently but firmly.

“Nope! Sorry, tomorrow doesn’t work for me. Let’s go.”

He starts towing her toward the door before she can even grab her purse or anything else and she’s so surprised that she actually starts following him. He’s never been anything less than gentle with her, always respectful of the way he touches her. Even when he’s teasing her by tickling her sides, she always feels that he’s aware of not pushing too far. So, him taking charge of her like this, comes as a bit of a shock and they’re halfway along the hall before she puts up any kind of resistance.

“Connor! I really can’t go out,” she exclaims, digging her heels in and twisting out of his grip.

He turns to face her, concern obvious on his features.

“Lucia, please. Just for a little while, okay? It’s a beautiful day outside and you’re starting to look like a ghost. You could use a little sun, put some color back in your cheeks. I’m worried about you. I’ve never asked you for anything before but do this for me, please.”

She looks into his eyes, seeing just how worried he really is, and sighs to herself. She know he’s right, both about her needing to get out and about him never asking her for anything.

“Okay, I guess a day off won’t hurt,” she smiles at him as his face brightens and he reaches for her again, this time taking her hand in his as he carries on down the hall.

To her surprise and confusion, however, he doesn’t lead her downstairs but instead to the door leading up to the roof and she follows him without question, wondering what’s going on. At the top of the stairs, he steps aside, letting her through the door first and she stops short outside, the early afternoon sun dazzling her for a moment. She brings her hand up to shield her eyes and takes a look around the rooftop, wondering why Connor’s brought her up here. She soon gets her answer as her eyes find Murphy, standing behind a portable grill, tongs in one hand, beer and cigarette in the other as he pokes at a line of hot dogs sizzling over the heat. He looks up as she come through the door and she realizes he’s wearing an apron with ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned on the front of it.

“Heeeyyy!” he calls in greeting, waving the tongs at her. “So glad you decided to join us.”

Connor comes up to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her neck.

“Today the rooftop, tomorrow the fucking world,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her temple and walking her over to hand her a beer from the open cooler next to Murphy.

She takes the beer from him, popping off the top and flicking it across the grill at Murphy, who grins back at her, lifting his own beer to salute her with it. She takes a seat on a surprisingly comfortable sofa that’s pushed against the waist high wall at the edge of the roof. Closing her eyes, she leans her head back, letting the sun warm her face and realizing how much she’s missed being outside in the past few weeks. The sofa creaks beside her as someone sits down and she knows it’s Connor without even opening her eyes, his scent as distinctive to her now as Murphy’s is. She opens one eye, tilting her head to look at him.

“So, how’d you get the sofa up here?”

Connor looks to Murphy and they both crack up, their laughter echoing across the rooftops.

“Ah, well now lass, that’s an interesting story. One night when Big Pete was drunk enough, we made him a little wager that he couldn’t haul this thing up here on his own! Damn near put himself in the hospital but that fucker did it!”

“What did you bet him?”

“A bottle of the finest whiskey, straight from the Mother Country.”

“You’re telling me Big Pete almost killed himself getting this up here and all he got was a bottle of whiskey?”

“It’s not just any whiskey, Lucia,” says Connor in an offended tone, “it was Jameson’s, the finest whiskey known to man!”

“If you say so,” she replies, sitting up a little as Murphy comes over to hand her a paper plate with two hot dogs balanced on top.

“How come she gets hers first?” Connor whines.

“Because she’s prettier than you, so shut yer fuckin’ mouth,” Murphy tells him, waving the tongs threateningly in Connor’s direction.

“Two?” Lucia asks as he goes back to get his and Connor’s, flopping on the sofa next to her so she’s sandwiched between the two of them. “You’re going to make me fat.”

“Pshhh,” snorts Murphy, “there’s nothing wrong with a curvy girl, isn’t that right Connor?”

“Aye,” replies Connor around a mouthful of hot dog, ketchup dripping down his hand, “nothing better than a girl with a bit o’ meat on her bones.”

“That’s right,” comes back Murphy. “More cushion for the pushin’!”

“Lord have mercy,” she says from between them, wriggling back to make a space for herself while she eats and thinking that there’s starting to be nowhere else she’d rather spend time than stuck between these two rogues. She’s tried to keep it in check but she knows she’s only fooling herself if she can’t admit that she’s falling a little bit in love with them as every day passes. And she knows that it’s crazy, that she’s sure they think of her as a sister by now, but still her mind sets off on its own course occasionally, dragging her into a world of what ifs. She always comes back to the ultimate question, though, the one that always snaps her from her daydreaming – which one would she choose if the option was hers?

Luckily, she thinks, she’ll never have to answer that question as it’s never going to be an option. The brothers are hardly monks, sitting around waiting for her to fall in love with them. She’s seen the seemingly endless array of girls that passes through the bar, hanging on their every word, practically throwing themselves at them, whether it’s because of their notoriety or just because they’re them. Connor laps it up, basking in the attention like the incorrigible flirt that he is, bedding women whenever he chooses but Murphy is a little more reserved. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have his fair share of attention, women would have to be blind not to be attracted to him, but he seems more careful about the ones he spends time with and, if he beds them, it’s never at the bar. He’ll always leave with them unlike Connor, whose conquests can often be found wandering the halls in the morning with him nowhere to be found.

Connor finishes his food and belches loudly next to Lucia, getting an approving laugh from Murphy, then stretches out his long legs in front of him, sliding down on the sofa until his head is resting against the back and closes his eyes. She looks to Murphy and he rolls his eyes, getting up to take her empty plate and throw it in the small trash can by the grill. She watches him as he cleans up, noting how his t-shirt rides against his muscles and remembering how he looks without it. He catches her eye and smiles shyly and she quickly looks away, feeling the heat rise to her face. She looks out over the rooftops at the city skyline spread before her, her gaze tracing the lines of the buildings, sorting through the new and old architecture. The view is pretty good from where she is and the light is perfect so she gets up carefully so as not to disturb Connor who is now snoring gently, head tilted back against the sofa, and goes downstairs to get her sketchpad.

By the time she gets back, Murphy has finished cleaning up and is sprawled across the rest of the sofa, head resting on Connor’s thigh and his booted feet dangling over the arm. He makes a move to get up for her but she waves him back down, heading over to the opposite wall instead, leaning against it while she flips open her pad and starts filling an empty page with an outline of the city. The sun is warm on her skin and there’s a quiet peace surrounding the rooftop, the city noise seeming far away for once. She lets herself go into her creation, pencil stroking lazily across the page, her mind free from anything but this moment. She’s only aware of time passing as the light changes across both her page and the buildings in front of her.

Satisfied with her work so far, she closes her pad, stretching her body from the sedentary position she’s been in and glancing around at the brothers. Both are dead to the world, chests rising and falling rhythmically, small snores still emanating from Connor. Murphy’s head has rolled towards Connor’s stomach and Connor has one hand laying protectively on Murphy’s chest as if, even in sleep, he had reached out to reassure himself that his brother was near. Her heart aches with love for them both, for their bond, and she wishes she had the power to give them different lives, to change the path they’ve set for themselves. A shiver courses along her spine as she wonders where that path is ultimately going to end for them and she shakes her head to clear the images that have stolen unbidden into her mind. Crossing the roof, she finds a cushion discarded in front of the sofa and sits on it, getting as close between them as she can, resting her head close to Murphy’s on Connor’s leg and closing her eyes. She lets her mind wander, softening her breathing to match theirs, comforted by their nearness until she feels herself drifting off into sleep.

What seems like mere seconds later, Lucia finds herself awakened by someone yelling harshly from the street below. She sits up, a little disoriented, wondering when it got dark and working out a kink in her neck from falling asleep on the floor. She feels the brothers stirring behind her and is about to ask what’s going on when the yell comes again.

”Connor?” screeches a woman’s voice. “I know you’re up there, ya piece of shite.”

Lucia turns around, looking from Connor to Murphy.

“Connor MacManus, ya better fuckin’ answer me if ya know what’s good for ya.”

“Jesus, is that Colleen?” Murphy asks as Connor shoves him off his lap, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the wall and look over.

“So you are there, you good-for-nothing waste of space. Oh and there’s ya fancy little whore,” she adds as Lucia and Murphy climb on the sofa to peer down at the street. “I might have known she wouldn’t be far from your side.”

“What the hell do you want, Colleen?” calls down Connor, face grim. “I thought we were done?”

“Yeah, well, guess what? Ya thought wrong. Now get your worthless ass down here before ya really make me mad.”

“Christ, man, you better get down there before she attracts the whole fuckin’ neighborhood,” says Murphy with a laugh. “Whatever you did to her, she’s fuckin’ pissed.”

Connor shoves him down onto the sofa as he pushes past, heading for the stairs. Murphy laughs and hauls himself back up, leaning his body against Lucia’s as she watches Connor come out of the door below and grab Colleen by the elbow, steering her across the street. Although she can’t hear what’s being said she can tell by the vicious arm-waving from Colleen and the tense lines of Connor’s body as he faces her that they’re arguing over something. Colleen turns, looking up at Lucia, gesturing in her direction and Connor shrugs in that ‘whatever’ way that makes Lucia crazy sometimes. They argue back and forth some more, snatches of their voices carrying to her on the breeze but too indistinct to make out words, and then Colleen says something that stops Connor dead in his tracks, his body stiffening as he listens to her. He says something in reply, arms folding across his chest and, without warning, she lashes out, slapping his face with a resounding crack that Lucia can definitely hear.

“Hey!” yells Murphy, practically straining to leap from the top of the building.

Colleen whips her face in his direction, flipping him her middle finger then, with one last glance at Connor, she turns on her heel and pounds off along the sidewalk away from the bar. Lucia watches as Connor crosses the street and comes back inside, turning and sliding back down on the sofa as she hears his steps on the stairs. He opens the door to the roof, crossing to the sofa and flopping down between them, rubbing his face with a wry grin.

“Well?” asks Murphy when Connor doesn’t say anything.

“Well what?” replies Connor, still massaging his jaw.

“What the fuck was all that about?”

“That? Well it seems Colleen wasn’t too happy about the way we left things after our last date.”

“And how was that?” Lucia asks accusingly, knowing him too well.

“Hey, I was the perfect gentleman. I gave her cab fare home from the bar and walked her to the door! It’s not my fault I forgot to call her again, I’ve been kinda busy and it just sorta slipped my mind.”

“Oh, Con,” she says, shaking her head with a small smile, “you’re never going to learn are you? Wait, why was she mad at me?”

“Ah, yeah, that. Well it appears she thinks that you and I are… you know. Actually, she thinks that the three of us are…”

“What the hell? Why would she think that?”

“I don’t know. She had a bug up her arse ever since you moved in. I think that was part of why Doc let her go in the end.”

“And that was what the slap was about? Great, now I’m a slut.”

“Umm, no,” Connor begins hesitantly, glancing at Murphy and then back to Lucia, “that’s not the reason. Colleen’s got herself knocked up and she’s claiming it’s mine.”

Lucia can actually feel her jaw drop and Murphy is on his feet in a second, leaning over Connor with a finger pointed at his face.

“Tell me you’re not that fuckin’ stupid, man,” he yells in Connor’s face.

“Of course not,” Connor replies, batting away Murphy’s hand. “Do you think I’d have gone anywhere near that without me Jimmy hat on? Pshh, give me some credit, please.”

“So, what did you say to her when she told you?” Lucia asks, pulling Murphy back down to sit beside her on the arm of the sofa.

“I just told her that maybe she should check with some of the fellers down at the docks before she goes jumping to any conclusions!” answers Connor with a laugh. “Maybe wait until the baby is born and see what color it is so she can get a better idea on who the daddy is.”

“Oh God, Connor!” Lucia shoves him as she gets up. “I want to slap you too.”

She heads for the stairs, grabbing her pad as she leaves and goes down to the bar, nodding a greeting to Doc as she slips onto her favorite stool and takes a look around to see who’s there. She waves at a couple of people she’s come to know and then turns her attention back to Doc who’s sliding a coffee across the scarred bar top at her. She smiles gratefully at him, wondering how he always knows when she’s not in the mood for beer and he winks and walks away to tend to his regulars. She nurses her coffee for a while, noticing when the brothers arrive but not making a move to join them as they pull up further along the bar and start a rousing conversation with Big Pete and Jimmy the Peg. She glances at Connor, head back mid-laugh, eyes crinkled at the corners, and wonders if the situation with Colleen even phased him at all. He’s certainly not acting like its bothering him, he seems pretty confident that she’s wrong or lying but Lucia does feel a twinge of sympathy for the girl. Whether it’s true or not, Connor could have handled it better, she thinks.

With a sigh she flips open her sketchpad, turning to the landscape she started that afternoon and stares at it, working through her next moves with her mind. Peripherally, she’s aware of someone taking the stool next to hers but she doesn’t acknowledge them until a male voice speaks close to her ear.

“It’s really good but doesn’t it usually work better with a pencil?”

She turns in his direction and finds a pair of warm, brown eyes regarding her from a smiling face. She knows she’s seen him before but her mind can’t quite grasp the name. He’s in his early thirties, dressed in worn blue jeans and a flannel shirt which is stretched a little across his shoulders, with chocolate brown hair cut neatly close to his head.

“Morgan,” he says, stretching out a hand as he sees her eyes searching his face.

“Lucia,” she replies, taking his hand, noticing the warmth of his skin and also the roughness belying some type of manual labor as his profession.

“I know,” he smiles, holding her hand for a fraction longer than is appropriate and his eyes hold hers for a moment before tracking back to the pad in her hand.

“This really is good,” he says, tilting his head to see better.

“Thanks, it’s still a little rough, a work in progress.”

“Well, your work in progress is still heads above anything I could ever do. Not a talented bone in my body.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Everybody has some secret talent even if they don’t like to share it.”

“Well, there is this one thing I can do,” he smiles at her mischievously and she can’t help but smile back.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, spill. I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a sweet genuine sound that gives her spine a little tingle. 

“How about I buy you another coffee and we get to know each other a bit better first?”

“Coward,” she replies jokingly and then gives a dramatic sigh. “Fine, if I have to work to see this talent then so be it.”

Smiling, Morgan gets Doc’s attention and orders her another coffee and a beer for himself. She follows him as he carries them to one of the small tables away from the bar, sinking into the seat opposite him. He’s easy to talk to, seemingly good-natured and open, telling her about his family and his job in construction, asking about her art and where she’s from and she relaxes into the conversation, surprised by how much she’s starting to like this guy and how at ease she feels with him. She even finds herself flirting with him a little and she wonders if this is maybe what she needs, somebody normal and nice to get her head away from the triangle she’s been hiding in with the brothers. Maybe this guy is her shot at getting back to something more resembling her old life.

And then it happens.

Morgan is telling her a story about some guy he once worked with and she’s laughing so hard, tears are squeezing from the corners of her eyes. Her head falls back and that’s when she sees it. Morgan’s eyes flick to her exposed cheek where her hair has fallen back to reveal her scar in all its glory and she sees something in his eyes that cuts off the laugh in her throat. Pity? Sympathy? Revulsion? It’s there for an instant and then it’s gone and his smile is back in place but her heart has gone cold and icy fingers of panic are working their way up her spine. Suddenly the room seems way too small and far too hot and she needs out. She curses inwardly at herself, wondering how she could have let herself be fooled into thinking a cute guy like this was ever going to stick around once he saw how damaged she really was. She starts to fidget nervously with her hair, pulling it down to cover her face, practically squirming in her seat in her need to be anywhere but there and wondering how she can escape without Morgan thinking she’s a crazy person. She’s about to just bolt from her seat when she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly and she smells Murphy’s musk before she even turns her head to look up into those blue eyes which are staring at her with a hint of concern and she breathes a sigh of relief.


	5. Chapter 5

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Murphy was watching Lucia closely from the bar the second the stranger sat next to her and struck up a conversation. He’d seen him around a few times although he had never spoken to him directly but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Murphy feels a pang of something in his chest as he watches Lucia talking animatedly about something in her sketchbook, leaning into the guy and laughing lightly at his words. When they move to one of the bar’s small tables, Murphy angles himself on his stool so that he can observe them in the mirror behind the bar without being too obvious. Except to Connor that is, who gently nudges his elbow and gives him a warning look but Murphy ignores him. When he sees Lucia suddenly freeze in her seat, a look of sheer panic clouding her features, he slips off his stool and makes a beeline for their table.

He leans across the table to introduce himself, shaking the other man’s hand but never letting his other one leave Lucia’s shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt you guys but the bar’s about to shut and we need Lucia in back to help with closing.”

“Oh, no problem,” replies Morgan, looking from Murphy to Lucia as if weighing up if there’s something more going on than meets his eye.

Murphy nods and gives Lucia’s shoulder a final squeeze before heading back to the bar, still keeping one eye on both of them. When Morgan drains the last of his pint and pushes back his chair from the table, holding out a hand to help Lucia from her seat and then walking with her to the door, Murphy moves across the room under the pretense of stacking the chairs onto the tables.

“Look, Lucia, I don’t know what your situation is with..” he hears Morgan say, seeing him wave a hand in Murphy’s direction from the corner of his eye.

“We’re just friends,” she replies and Murphy can’t help but feel his heart sink a little at her words.

“Good, then I’d like to take you out sometime, if you’d want?” Morgan asks.

“Morgan, I don’t know. I like you but I’m just coming out of a really weird time in my life right now and I’m not sure I need to complicate things further than they already are.”

Murphy sees her step back from Morgan who stares at her for a second and then zips up his jacket before reaching for the door.

“Okay but the offer is always open. I’ll be around if you change your mind,” he tells her then opens the door and disappears into the night.

Slowly, she turns and heads back to the bar, nodding an absent ‘goodnight’ to the last of the regulars passing her on their way out. Connor is behind the bar, ushering Doc to bed and reassuring him that the three of them can lock up for the night and she approaches Murphy who is still stacking chairs ready to wash down the floor.

“You okay, love?” he asks.

“Yeah, thanks for the rescue.”

“I didn’t do nothing. Sometimes, Lucia, I think the only person you need rescuing from, is yourself.”

He turns back to hefting the chairs, shaking his head without further explanation, and that’s when the door to the bar bangs open and three men pile inside.

“We’re closed,” shouts Murphy above the music still coming from the battered jukebox in the corner and then turns to make sure he’s been heard, eyes landing on the men standing by the door. His body goes rigid and one word slips from his lips.

“Fuck.”

He can feel Lucia’s body tense up beside him and his mind is racing.

“Lucia, behind the bar now,” says Murphy softly, eyes never leaving the men ahead of him. “Go.”

She starts to back up slowly towards the end of the bar and Murphy curses inwardly for letting himself naively believe that everything the brothers do in the name of justice has nothing but positive repercussions out there in the world and that nothing could ever follow them back to their safe haven. But now the air is sparking with a feeling of impending danger and his adrenalin is spiking his nerves into a frenzy. He senses rather than sees Connor vault the bar top in one easy move, coming to a stop beside him.

“Can we help you fellers?” Connor asks casually.

“Yeah, which one of you pricks is Connor MacManus?” replies the guy in the middle stepping forward.

He’s obviously the leader, a thick-set guy in his early thirties, all brawn and no brain from the look of him but there’s a dangerous look in his eye that’s jangling Murphy’s nerves.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” retorts Connor and the other guy’s brow knits together in a look of anger.

“Oh, it has to be you, no question,” he throws a glance at Murphy, “the other one’s just not pretty enough.”

“Hey!” yells Murphy indignantly, taking a step forward and finding Connor’s arm blocking his chest. 

“What’s this all about?” Connor asks, fingers splayed against Murphy’s torso but not really restraining him.

“My name is Aidan and I hear you’ve been disrespecting my sister, pretty-boy, and I’m here to teach you a lesson in manners.”

“Your sist-” Connor looks confused for a second and then realization dawns on his face. “Wait, you’re Colleen’s brother? Hey man, no disrespect intended. Colleen and me just had a little difference of opinion is all, no harm done.”

“Is that right? A difference of opinion?”

“Yeah. I told her I thought she was a slut half the town had been riding and she didn’t agree for some reason.”

Connor’s stance changes as that shit-eating grin of his spreads across his face and he slings an arm around Murphy’s neck who is not even trying to hide his laughter. He can actually see the thought process working on Aidan’s face as he digests what Connor has just said. Once the meaning of Connor’s words sink in, that’s it. With a roar, Aidan charges forward, head down, aiming for Connor’s mid-section, his bulk propelling Connor backwards away from Murphy and up against the bar with a sickening crunch. Murphy can hear the breath whoosh out of Connor’s lungs and he turns to help but he doesn’t get one step before the other two thugs are on him, one grabbing him from behind, pulling his arms viciously back behind him and the other laying a punch squarely across his jaw, letting loose a fine mist of blood from his lip.

Connor has somehow managed to twist Aidan’s body down into a headlock and now he’s repeatedly slamming the back of his skull into the edge of the bar where it overhangs. There’s a look of determined concentration on his face and with a final slam he drops the other guy to the floor where he lays not moving. Stepping over him, Connor starts towards the guys who are still whaling on Murphy and Lucia shouts his name from behind the bar.His head whips in her direction and Murphy sees her quickly toss him the baseball bat Doc keeps hooked under the bar which he catches easily, a wide grin splitting his face as he steps up behind the guy pounding on Murphy and cracks the bat across his lower back. The guy yells and the one who had been holding Murphy lets him drop to his knees, blood dripping from his face to the floor, and steps forward to face Connor who doesn’t even give him a chance to retaliate before he swings the bat across his jaw, sending blood and teeth flying in a red explosion before the guy hits the floor. Connor stands over him, bat up from the follow-through but the guy isn’t moving. Behind him, Murphy can see the third guy stepping up, pulling something from his pocket that glints in the soft bar lighting but the warning he was about to shout turns to ashes in his mouth when he sees Lucia hauling herself onto the bar with every intention of getting between Connor and his assailant. Neither of them are fast enough and Murphy watches in horror as the thug arcs the knife at Connor’s back, slicing through his t-shirt and flesh as if it were nothing, causing Connor to drop the bat as the guy follows up with a kick to the back of Connor’s knee, forcing him to the floor. With Connor down, the thug steps forward, knife up and aimed at Connor’s back and Murphy throws himself forward, hooking the guy’s legs with his and taking him down, not stopping once the guy is on the floor but moving to straddle his waist and start laying punches about his face and jaw. Murphy lands blow after blow, his own blood dripping in rivers down his face, his lips pulled back in a snarl, an animalistic grunt issuing forth each time his knuckles connect with the other man’s face.

He’s not sure how long he keeps whaling on the guy before he stops moving but Murphy doesn’t stop, just keeps right on pummeling the guy until Connor appears and pulls him off, wrapping his arms around Murphy’s waist and hauling him up.

“He’s done, brother, let him be,” he says, tugging Murphy’s hair from behind before letting him go.

The bar is eerily silent, the last song playing on the jukebox having come to an end somewhere during the fray and the three of them look from one to the other. Lucia is still perched half over the bar and the brothers are a mess, Murphy bathed in crimson and Connor favoring his left leg where he was kicked. Murphy walks towards Lucia, aiming a kick to the sternum of one of the guys on the floor as he passes but getting no response.

“Lucia, are you okay?” he asks, reaching up to help her down from the bar top.

“Am I okay?” she repeats and looks at him a little dumbfounded, watching as blood drips from his chin to the floor. “I’m fine, it’s you guys I’m worried about.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” says Connor, limping over to stand by Murphy, “nothing a good whiskey and a Band-Aid can’t fix!”

She looks at them both, grinning like idiots in front of her, and then looks around at the bodies littering the floor, her eyes wide.

“What are we going to do now?” she asks.

“Well, you’re going to go upstairs, get your nurse’s outfit on and wait for us there,” Connor tells her.  “Murph n’ me will take out the trash down here.”

“But..”

“No buts,” says Connor, steering her to the door, “we’ve got this, lass.”

“Nurse’s outfit?” she asks before she leaves, raising an eyebrow.

“Well now, you’ve gotta have a dream, haven’t ya love?”

He grins broadly at her and winks before turning and heading back to help Murphy, the two of them staring silently at each other for a moment and then moving as one to grab the first unconscious body and drag it nearer to the exit.

“Why can’t you date women with smaller brothers?” Murphy grumbles at Connor as they move the three men.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

A short while later the pair of them climb the stairs and pile into the pool room to find Lucia with first-aid supplies laid neatly out on the table along with clean towels and a bowl of steaming water. Both of them are still wired with adrenalin and Connor is swinging a whiskey bottle by the neck which he hands to her when he gets close and she lifts it to her lips, eyeing them over the top for a second before she takes a swig and hands it back to him. The brothers lean, side by side, against the pool table as Lucia sizes them up then gently tilts Murphy’s face to the light before handing him a wad of gauze, guiding his hand to the cut on his forehead and telling him to apply pressure.

“So, what did you do with our guests downstairs?” she asks as she turns Connor around to get to the wound on his back, pulling up the bottom of his t-shirt, his blood staining her palms and he hisses through his teeth.

“Called Dave,” he replies, trying to turn to get a look at what she’s doing.

“Hold still,” she says, poking him in the shoulder blade. “Dave who drives the cab? He came and picked them up?”

She manages to get the material of his t-shirt unstuck from his wound and push it up his back, until he reaches back over his shoulder and pulls it off over his head.

“Aye, he’s a good man. He’ll drop them off at the emergency room and if anyone asks he won’t remember where he picked them up. They paid him well after we rifled their wallets.”

Connor’s laugh is cut short as she wipes across his wound with an iodine-soaked piece of gauze and he curses up a storm.

“Oh hush, you big baby, it’s not that bad. You were lucky, it only grazed you. Looks like your shirt took the brunt of it.”

“How is that lucky? That’s my fuckin’ favorite shirt,” Connor whines, balling up the ruined shirt and tossing it across the room before taking another swig from the whiskey bottle and handing it to Murphy.

“And they were okay, Colleen’s brother and his friends?” she asks as she tapes a bandage over Connor’s back and then wipes her hands on one of the clean towels.

“They’ll be fine,” replies Connor as he sinks into one of the chairs, propping his leg up in front of him to watch her work on Murphy. “They’ll have the hangover from hell in the morning but they were all alive and kicking when we sent them on their way.”

“Aye and I think they got the message that nobody fucks with the MacManus brothers if they know what’s good for them,” chimes in Murphy.

“Fuckin’ right, baby brother, fuckin’ right.”

“Shit, you’re a mess,” Lucia says to Murphy, checking over his face.

He looks down at himself, grimacing a little at all the blood soaked into his front and follows Connor’s lead, peeling the shirt off over his head and throwing it across the room. He hops up to sit on the pool table so she can see better under the light and she starts cleaning him up.

“Jesus fuck, Lucia,” hisses Murphy, jerking away from she as she probes the wound on his cheek.

“What is it with she guys tonight, pair of pussies! If you don’t like the way I take care of you then I can stop anytime, let you go back to fixing yourselves with irons and duct tape, how does that sound, huh?”

Murphy looks down at the ugly scar on his upper arm and leans back towards her, grumbling under his breath.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, applying a line of butterfly strips to seal his wounds.

With his face taken care of, she turns her attention to his hands, bathing his raw knuckles in the water and toweling them dry. Out of habit, she tucks her hair behind her ears to keep it out of her way while she works and when she’s done she straightens up to find Murphy smiling at her.

“What?” she asks, folding up the blood-stained towels and laying them by the bowl on the table.

“Nothing. It’s just nice to see your face, that’s all.”

With a quick shove of her fingers, she brings her hair back down again and the smile fades from Murphy’s face to be replaced with the look of irritation. He slides off the table, his body tensing.

“Why do you do that?” he demands, harshly.

“Don’t, Murph,” she says, eyes pleading with him not to pursue this but he pushes on.

“No, I wanna know. Tell me why you hide, Lucia.”

“Murph,” comes Connor’s voice from behind them in a warning tone.

“Keep out of this, Connor. I want to know why Lucia feels she needs to hide her face all the fuckin’ time.”

The tone of his voice is strident, getting that high-pitched harshness it takes on when he’s really passionate or mad about something. He sees tears well in her eyes but she pushes them away and looks defiantly up at him, not answering him.

“Exactly what I expected,” he says, turning away from her in disappointment and grabbing the whiskey from Connor before walking towards the door. “When ya want to face reality, you come find me.”

He marches to his room, slamming the door behind him and paces back and forth, angry at himself for pushing her and angry at her for continuing to hide behind the walls that she’s made for herself. His frustration is burning in his veins, mixing with the high he’s still feeling from the fight and he punches his fist into the wall by the door, gritting his teeth as he feels the sickening pain radiating from his knuckles. He crumples to the floor, his breath coming in shallow gasps, raising the whiskey bottle to his lips and grimacing as the fiery burn of the alcohol slips down his throat. He sits there in his misery, hoping that he hasn’t made a huge mistake that will have repercussions on his relationship with Lucia but too stubborn to go find her and try to fix what he’d said. Sometime later he hears Connor’s feet coming along the hallway and he tenses as his brother knocks on the door and quietly speaks his name. When Murphy doesn’t reply, he hears Connor sigh and then move on to his own room where he closes his door behind him.

A few minutes later, Murphy’s ears prick up again as he hears the sound of lighter footsteps coming along the hall and he holds his breath as Lucia passes his door and then stops for a moment before coming back to gently tap her nails against the wood. Part of him wants so much to just open the door but he’s suddenly nervous, a chill creeping over his body despite the buzz of the whiskey in his system, so he stays silent, half-praying that she’ll move on. To his surprise, the door opens and she steps tentatively inside, her profile silhouetted by the dull moonlight that’s straining to make its way through the grimy windows. Catching sight of him on the floor, she closes the door behind her and stands, looking down at him with her arms crossed defensively across her chest.

“You want to know why I hide, Murphy?” she asks, her tone hurting him with its rawness. “You really want to know?”

Murphy pushes himself up against the wall until he’s face to face with her and looks at her expectantly.

“Because it makes me feel like a freak, like an ugly, disfigured freak that nobody is ever going to want to look at. Because it disgusts me every day when I look in the mirror and it makes me uncomfortable even knowing you guys know it’s there. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

“Nope. That’s a stupid fuckin’ reason, Lucia,” he responds truthfully, hearing the frustration still evident in his words.

She look at him in disbelief, her mouth working as she looks for something to say.

“You had a nice, good-looking guy interested in you tonight and I watched as you pushed him away. And for what? Something that only you see, Lucia. The only person that your scar bothers is you. Morgan saw it and it didn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother Connor and it certainly doesn’t bother me.”

He reaches out and wraps a hand around her wrist, pulling her into his personal space, the bare skin of his torso radiating heat as his other hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, exposing her face once more.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice softening as he meets her eyes.

She shakes her head, eyes filling with tears again.

“Fucking beautiful and this,” he dips his head to kiss the center of her scar, his lips just barely brushing her skin, “this is nothing, Lucia. It’s a part of who you are but it’s not all that you are. It’s time that you stopped hiding behind it and let yourself be beautiful again.”

And then he’s kissing her, hands clenched in her hair, his tongue carrying the salty taste of his blood into her mouth, making her moan a little and feeling her hands balling at his sides as she lets herself be filled with his scent and his taste.

“I need to show you you’re beautiful,” Murphy breathes, letting his kisses trail down her throat. “Not just beautiful but smart too, smart enough to run rings around a pair of dumb micks like us.”

Lucia moans again under his touch, shaking her head from side to side, her hands coming up to dig into his short hair as he sucks at the tender skin over her pulse point.

 “Aye,” says Murphy, raising his head to look into her face, “smart, and talented too. Your work should be hanging in galleries, Lucia, not on bar walls.”

He kisses her again, long and slow, his tongue teasing hers in a way that makes her lean up into him, fingers dropping from his hair to rest against the smooth skin of his abdomen. Murphy feels his body responding to her, his cock stirring in his jeans as she presses against him, her tongue hot in his mouth where it’s tangled with his. Maybe it’s the alcohol making him bolder than normal, he thinks as he reaches for the buttons on her shirt and slowly undoes them. As much as he wants her and wants to show her how fucking desirable she is to him, he’s also hyper-aware that she may not be feeling the same way although the signals she’s giving him so far seem positive. Slipping her shirt gently off her shoulders and throwing it on the bed, he softly strokes her arms and looks her in the eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asks hesitantly, wanting her to have the chance to say no if she wants him to stop.

She answers him with a smile, reaching behind her to unhook her bra and let it drop to the floor and he bites his lip at the sight of her half-naked before him.

“More beautiful than every fantasy I’ve had about you,” he confesses, thankful for the dim light that’s hopefully hiding the heat rising in his face.

Taking her hand, he leads her the few steps to the bed, stopping at the edge to kiss her again, his hands fumbling for the zipper on her jeans and pushing them roughly down when he finally gets it open. Sitting her on the bed, he drops to his knees in front of her, tugging off her boots and jeans and then pausing as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He looks up at her, still needing reassurance that she’s okay with what he’s doing, and she reaches out a hand to caress the undamaged side of his face, sending a shiver along his spine as she gives him a small nod. With a little help from her, he wriggles her out of her panties, tossing them behind him and then takes a breath as he admires the curves of her body laid bare before him. He slides his hands up the supple skin of her thighs, leaning in to kiss her once more, craving the taste of her more than he ever thought he would. Leaning her back onto the bed with his body covering hers, he licks at the hollow of her throat, his tongue trailing wetly down to her breasts as her breath comes in shallow gasps. When he rolls her nipple between his lips, he feels her body stiffen under him, a low moan escaping her lips and his cock throbs in response. He takes his time, making sure every inch of her skin gets his attention, kissing, licking and sucking his way across her body until she’s clinging to his shoulders and panting hard beneath him.

Caressing her thighs in long, slow strokes, he works his mouth lower, breathing hotly against her hipbones so that she shudders with the sensation. Gently, he eases her thighs apart, stroking his fingers up the inside and moves around to position himself between them. He can feel her pulse fluttering under her skin and he looks briefly up to give her a tiny grin, seeing her bottom lip is clamped firmly between her teeth. As he lowers his face to her pussy he hears her take in a sharp breath and he feels his mouth water as he takes in the heady scent of her. His first taste of her makes him groan against the hot, slick flesh and she jerks a little under him but he steadies her with his palms on her hips and runs his tongue against her slit once more.

“Murphy,” she moans, drawing out his name like a prayer and he smiles to himself.

Slipping his hands down from her hips, he teases her with his fingers for a moment, slowly slipping two inside her and fingering her gently before he withdraws them to part her lips and expose the ripeness of her clit just ready for him to suck on. She bucks harder under him this time, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he licks and sucks at the swollen nub of flesh under his tongue. Going down on a woman is always something he’s enjoyed, something he’s always been told he’s good at and this time is no exception. He loves the taste of her flesh under his tongue, her scent filling his nostrils, loves the way that her clit swells as he sucks on it, teasing small shudders from her when he slides his tongue into her opening and laps at her juices until his chin is slick with them. Using the tip of his tongue he swirls it around her clit, rubbing it from side to side and pulling it between his lips until he can feel the subtle changes in her body and he knows she’s close to climaxing. Her moans increase as he pushes two fingers back inside her tight pussy while he sucks rhythmically on her clit, wanting to feel her orgasm from the inside as she clenches around his knuckles.

He hums against her, letting the sound travel through his lips and tongue and onto her convulsing skin. With a muffled scream, Lucia’s body pushes up off the bed under him, every muscle straining as she comes hard, her pussy tightening on the fingers he still has deep inside of her before she collapses back down against the bed. Murphy doesn’t let up, he continues to rub his tongue against her clit and finger her gently, feeling the frenzied pulses inside of her slowly subside. She’s panting hard above him, her body giving off small judders and he can feel her sweat pooling under his palm where he has it flat against her hip but he doesn’t stop pleasuring her even though he’s starting to feel an ache in his jaw. He wants to make her come again, wants to make her come a million times if she’ll let him, if it will make her see she’s not the freak she thinks she is. He knows the build can be slower sometimes, the second time around, but with Lucia he can feel her body responding almost instantly to his continued stimulation, her fingers pushing through his hair as she moans his name repeatedly, begging him not to stop. When he hits the right combination of fingers and tongue, she yelps, rocking her hips up and down as she comes again and Murphy strokes her until he’s sure she’s done.

Sitting back on his heels, Murphy wipes the back of his hand across his lips, rotating his jaw for a second before pushing up to lay kisses on Lucia’s stomach and up over the swell of her breasts until his lips find hers and she welcomes him with a deep kiss. Her hands come around the back of his head, playing lightly with his hair and stroking the back of his neck which sends a ripple of gooseflesh out over his skin and she smiles against his lips.

“Murph, that was… you were,” she starts, laughing as she can’t finish her sentence. “Mind-blowing. I haven’t come that hard in… well, in a really long time.”

She kisses him again, her tongue probing gently at his mouth and he can’t stop mentally grinning at her words, beyond pleased that he’d been able to make her feel like that. He raises himself up when he feels her shiver a little beneath him, getting to his feet and pulling her up with him so that he can throw back the blankets for her to climb into the bed. Quickly shucking his boots and jeans, he climbs in after her, pulling the covers back over them both and wrapping his arm under her neck to tug her close to him. Her hand slides up his torso as their lips meet again and she tickles her fingers through the hair surrounding his nipples. While her tongue is still mercilessly teasing his, he feels her fingers moving lower, her nails scratching maddeningly through the hair below his navel and his cock twitches in response. When she drags a nail up the ridged length of his shaft, he gasps loudly into her mouth and reaches down to grab her wrist and pull her away from his sensitive flesh.

“No,” he whispers, locking his fingers with hers and meeting her eyes, “you don’t have to. I wanted this to be about you, to show you how sexy you are.”

“But that’s not fair,” she pouts, squeezing his fingers with hers. “What about you? Don’t tell me you don’t want to because I just had my hand on something that will prove you a liar.”

“Aye, of course I want to but…”

“Then there’s no point in suffering, is there?” Lucia interrupts him.

“I’m Irish, sexual suffering is kinda par for the course,” he tells her with a soft snort. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just want to lay here with you and go to sleep. I really didn’t expect anything in return, that’s not why I did this.”

“Then you really are a Saint, Murphy MacManus, a crazy one but definitely a Saint,” she tells him, laying her head down against his chest and curling her body into his.

Murphy smiles, a little surprised that she gave in so easily when he’d had arguments with her in the past that lasted for hours over trivial things but he closes his eyes and tries to ignore the ache in his balls. He’s almost asleep, the combination of alcohol and adrenalin taking him down, and his mind is drifting, thinking about Lucia being wrapped in his arms and how good it had felt to take care of her. Although he knows he made the right decision not to have sex with her, he’s still a red-blooded MacManus and he can’t help but fantasize about how it would have been had he gone through with it. He's thought about her so often in the past few months, late at night when he’s alone in his bed, but to have seen her naked and gotten to taste her sweet flesh is unbelievable to him. He moans a little under his breath as he imagines what it would be like to slip his cock into the wet heat of her pussy, remembering how tightly she had clenched it around his fingers. With a small jerk he wakes himself back up fully, trying to clear his mind of that image before he comes all over himself and has to explain himself to Lucia. It’s then that he realizes that she’s no longer tucked beside him and the sensation of her warm, wet heat surrounding him isn’t a dream. Looking down he sees her grinning back up at him just before her lips wrap firmly back around his cock and she eases her mouth down to take his length into the back of her throat. As her cheeks hollow with the suction, it’s all he can do not to shoot his load into her mouth right then and there. Instead he wraps his fists around the metal bedframe and hangs on as she bobs her head, running her hand up and down his shaft in tandem with her mouth and he prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself by coming too soon.

He can feel a hot, prickly sweat breaking out all over his body as Lucia works at him, pulling off to swipe her tongue around his head, tickling his slit with the tip and then plunging him back into her mouth. She’s relentless and he knows he was a fool to think that he could stop himself from coming with the sight of her lips sliding on his cock. With a muttered curse, he comes, his cock thrusting into her mouth as she swallows hard and fast around him and he grips tighter at the bedframe until he’s spent. Lucia releases his cock with a slight popping sound, grinning broadly at him as she wipes the corners of her mouth with her fingertip and then sucks at it noisily before climbing her way back up his body to straddle his lap. Murphy releases his aching grip on the bed and reaches out to pull her down on him, his mouth seeking hers greedily, wanting to taste himself on her tongue.

“What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand, love?” he asks her when they finally part, her eyes shining as she looks up at him.

“Well, when have you ever known me to take ‘no’ for an answer?” she counters and Murphy chuckles to himself.

“Damn stubborn woman,” he mutters as he tips her onto her side next to him and pulls her back into her original position.

He lays, stroking the soft curve of her spine, feeling more than content as he presses soft kisses against her temple.

“Thank you,” she whispers into the darkness, her face turned against his chest and he tugs her in closer and wraps his arm a little tighter around her.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Lucia is still sleeping deeply when Murphy wakes the next morning, blinking groggily into the half-light in his room. He takes stock of his body’s complaints just like he does every morning, flexing his stiff knuckles and wincing a little as pain flares under the dressings. Gingerly he touches the side of his face, finding his cheek puffy but the skin is cool to his touch so he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have an infection. With his ritual tally of his wounds complete, Murphy turns his attention to the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. During the night she’s rolled a little away from him, her hand coming up to tuck under her pillow and he admires the soft curve of her breast where the blanket has pulled away, licking his lips as he eyes the soft bump of her pink nipple. He’s sure he can still taste her on his tongue from the night before and he knows he can definitely recall what it felt to have her lips wrapped fully around his cock, a flush of heat pooling in his belly at the memory. Her hair has fallen back from her face in her sleep and the line of her scar is clear in the early light but it doesn’t bother him, it never has, and he hopes that he’s at least convinced her just a little that it shouldn’t bother her either.

To him she’s always been beautiful, not the fake beauty of a magazine model or the enhanced beauty of the rich women he sees sometimes in the bars uptown when he and Connor are on a job. Lucia’s beauty is different, she’s earned it, the lines caused by her smiles, the generous curves of her body from the amazing food she cooks, her beauty is from a life that’s been lived. Murphy reaches out, wanting to touch her face, to reassure himself that he really is lucky enough to have her beside him and that it’s not just another of his wishful fantasies but his hand stops before it reaches her skin, Connor’s voice ringing in his ears.

“If you want to fuck her, then fuck her but don’t go all hearts and flowers over this chick, you know it’ll just end in trouble.”

Murphy lowers his hand to his side, looking at Lucia’s face one last time before he quietly gets out of the bed and grabs his discarded clothing as he leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him. Getting dressed quickly in the hallway, he thinks back on the fight the previous night, knowing that it could have so easily turned out much worse and Lucia had been smack dab in the middle of it. No, Connor was right, Murphy thinks as he heads swiftly down the stairs, it’s safer for everyone if he stops acting like a love-sick fool and just concentrates on getting his life back to the way it was before Lucia walked into it.


	6. Chapter 6

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Lucia’s mouth feels fuzzy and she has to rub her eyes before they’ll open the next morning. Blinking into the weak sunlight, she tries to clear the cobwebs from her brain and figure out how she ended up alone in Murphy’s bed. Then the realization comes and she lays there, reliving the night before in perfect detail, feeling her skin flush as she remembers how he took care of her body and she wonders how it even happened, how the situation ended up as it did. Her thoughts turn to the fight and the state they left the bar in last night - she knows the brothers took care of the bodies but she’s pretty sure nobody cleaned up the mess. Hopefully it’s still early enough, she thinks, and Doc won’t have been in there yet.

Extricating herself from the tangle of Murphy’s blankets, she grabs her clothes and quickly gets dressed in the bathroom, looking at her disheveled appearance in the mirror and curious as to where Murphy is. She leaves the room, silently tip-toeing down the hallway, passing Connor’s door which is firmly closed. She peeks inside the pool room but it’s empty, so she heads downstairs where she’s surprised to find that the bar is spotless and she knows it could only have been Murphy. There’s even a pot of fresh coffee brewing and she grabs one of the take-out cups from next to the machine and pours herself a cup, leaving it black for once. Snapping on the lid, she grabs a pack of smokes and matches from under the bar, thinking she’ll pay Doc later and she slips out of the bar by the back entrance.

She heads out away from the bar, the morning sun bright on her face and the fresh air starting to clear some of the fog from her brain. She’s not headed anywhere in particular, just roaming the city streets, her mind churning with the events of the night before. She walks all morning, finally coming to a stop in front of the brothers’ church as if something subconsciously led her feet there. Crossing the street to the park opposite, she sits in the sun just watching the world go by. When her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten all morning, she buys a hot dog for lunch with the change in her pocket, realizing she left her purse behind. She’s just thinking about walking back home when she hears her name being called and, turning her head, she sees Murphy running across the park to her, coat flapping, his rosary bouncing against his chest. Skidding to a halt in front of her, he grabs her and shakes her gently, his hands checking from her arms to her waist to her neck.

“I’ve been searching fucking everywhere for you, where the fuck have you been all day? I thought you’d left, thought last night was too much for you. Are you okay?” he asks, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush and she can see the anguish in his eyes and she feels a twinge of guilt for not telling anyone where she were going.

“I’m fine,” she replies, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them but he looks at her doubtfully so she steers him to the nearest bench to sit down. “Really, I am. I just needed to get outside for a while, clear my head a little. Last night was pretty intense.”

He pulls his hands from hers, not meeting her eye.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “I shouldn’t have…”

“No,” she replies, cutting him off, “don’t say that, don’t feel bad about what happened. I don’t regret it for an instant and neither should you. You know I love you so much and I kind of think it was inevitable really, I’m almost surprised something hasn’t happened before. Maybe not quite like that but something. I just needed to get out and make my peace with it, do you understand?”

She reaches out for his poor, battered face, tilting his chin up so he looks her in the eye and understands the truth of her words. Leaning forward, she kisses him lightly on the lips, smiling as she takes his hands back in hers. The beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and he locks his fingers with hers, sitting silent for a moment.

“You know, I’ll understand if you want to move on now, get back to your life,” he says.

She looks at him, confused.

“Well, I just figured you might not need us to take care of you anymore,” he continues, “you know, now that you’re feeling better an’ all. And what with the fight happening in the bar.”

“Feeling better? Wait.. you think that one fuck from a MacManus brother and suddenly all my insecurities are fixed and I’m going to have some great revelation and move out? Oh honey, you were good but you weren’t that good!”

Murphy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, obviously unsure of what to say.

“Murph, it’s not about me hiding from the world anymore, it hasn’t been for some time. Where I am is right where I want to be. McGinty’s and Doc and you two idiots are all my home now and, unless you’re kicking me out, I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not naïve, I know that what you do is a lethal business but let me tell you something, last night in the bar, I wasn’t scared, not really. The only thing that frightened me was the thought of either of you getting hurt but I knew you’d do anything to keep me safe so I wasn’t worried.”

“Aye, we would,” he tells her, his eyes far away for a moment. “But there’s no reason to put you in harm’s way. What happened with us was… it was great, a good time, but I don’t think it should happen again. I don’t want things to be awkward between us if we’re living under the same roof and I don’t want to make you a target for people who might be looking for a way to hurt me and Connor.”

“Me either,” replies Lucia, giving him a small smile even though she feels a twinge of hurt at the way he’s dismissing what happened between them. “It’s not like I want to date you or anything.”

She gives him a playful shove and a slow smile spreads over his face which she returns with one of her own before getting up and pulling him to his feet.

“Come on, let’s go home,”  she says, keeping one hand wrapped in his as she heads out of the park and back to the bar.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Connor is waiting when she pushes open the door, nursing a beer at the end of the bar in her favorite seat. He slips off the bar stool when she gets close, punching Murphy in the shoulder and looks down at her.

“See, I knew she was fine,” he says but hugs her tight all the same, eyes searching her face for reassurance and once he’s satisfied that she’s all good, he lets her go and returns to his seat. “Most women just lay back and say thank you when they’ve been MacManus’d but you’re the first that ever got up and could still walk, let alone make it out of the building unaided.”

Lucia flushes a deep shade of red, knowing that she can’t deny it, that he must have heard them during the night but she doesn’t let him bait her.

“Oh Lord, I’d forgotten that you two use that charming turn of phrase,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

She takes her time under the hot water, letting her body remember the way it felt the night before and she emerges smiling and refreshed. Looking at it with a rational mind, she can see the sense in Murphy’s words, why complicate something that’s working so well. What happened, happened and it was wonderful and amazing and all that crap but, at the end of the day, her friendship with both the brothers means more to her than she’s willing to risk. Pulling on clean clothes, she stays in her room, working on one of her commissioned projects until she notices the light starting to fade outside her window and then she heads back down to the bar. Doc is training a new barmaid and the brothers are naturally making things as difficult as possible for both him and her as they can. When Lucia walks in, his normally good-natured face is screwed up as he sputters and yells at Murphy across the bar top. He sighs in relief when she appears, coming up behind Murphy to cuff him on the back of the head, making him jump and swing around in his seat. When he sees it’s her, he relaxes, shoving her gently back and laughing.

She tries to keep them distracted for the night so Doc can have some breathing room, suggesting they play poker with some of the other guys, which they readily agree to. She declines to join them, choosing instead to pull out her notebook and work on some character sketches, the mood to create tugging hard at her since the afternoon. She catches each of them looking at her from time to time, Connor smiling around his cigarette and winking at her. When it’s time for bed, he inclines his head towards the stairs and smiles a dirty smile at her, mouthing the words, ‘My turn’. She sticks her tongue out and rolls her eyes at him, giving Murphy a good night kiss on the cheek and heading to her room.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Over the next few weeks things go back to normal, she works, either on the bar mural or in her studio and the brothers do what they do. Connor comes back from a job one night with three broken fingers and Murphy and her drive him to see James, Murphy cracking jokes to Connor the whole way about ‘there goes your social life!’ until Connor wraps his good arm around Murphy’s throat from the back seat and the car nearly goes off the road. Lucia yells at the pair of them, feeling more like their baby-sitter than anything else and asks herself how they’ve managed to stay alive this long without killing each other.

She does start going out more, either with the brothers or by herself, meeting up with some of her old friends but finding, sadly, that she now has nothing in common with them anymore. Their lives seem so shallow to her now, that she wonders how they were even friends in the first place. And through it all the Murphy is always there, they’re even closer now she feels, although there’s no replay of the night they spent together. The only thing that seems to have changed is that he’s become even less respectful of her personal space but it doesn’t really bother her, if she’s honest. Colleen’s brother never comes back and they hear through the grapevine that she changed her story about Connor being the father and got engaged to some guy who works on the docks instead. Connor takes the news in his stride, never having believed it for an instant. He’s already cozying up to the new barmaid and Lucia know he’s never going to change.

She see Morgan in the crowd at the bar a few times and the pair of them exchange pleasantries but nothing more until one day she bumps into him at the post office and he asks her out again. This time she says yes, thinking maybe it’s been long enough and he really is a nice guy, she could do a lot worse. She goes back to the bar that day with a lightness in her step, already planning what to wear. She takes her time getting ready, feeling good to be dressed up again in something other than the usual jeans and t-shirts she wears around the bar. She smiles at her reflection as she loosely pins up her hair, leaving just a few tendrils down to frame her face, the scar on her cheek barely visible under a light dusting of make-up. Even though she still feels its weight mentally, she’s not allowing it to let her be afraid of being seen anymore. She hates to say the brothers are right about anything but rationally, she does know that the only person it bothers is herself and it’s up to her to change that.

Struggling with the clasp on her necklace she wanders into the pool room to see if one of the brothers is there to help her out and finds them both playing pool, the room a haze of smoke and foul language. Connor spots her first and emits a raucous wolf-whistle in her direction, causing Murphy to spin and look her way. His eyes devour her, his intensity bringing a small rush of heat to her skin but then his eyes darken a shade as he takes a long drag on his cigarette and breathes it out, head tipped back to the ceiling, keeping her in his sight as he circles a finger at her.

“Where are we going?” he asks, levelling his eyes at her.

“Well I’m going out for dinner with Morgan,” she replies, getting Connor to help with her necklace. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

“When did this happen?” Murphy demands, his voice taking on a tone that she doesn’t like. “When were you going to tell us about it?”

“I didn’t realize that I had to schedule my dates through you,” she retorts, voice rising a little.

“Well, where are you going?”

“No idea,” she shrugs.

“What time will you be back?”

“About half past it’s none of your goddamn business!”

“Fine,” he yells, “see if I come rescue you when you’re being raped in a dark alley somewhere.”

Lucia flinches as if he’s struck her, the sting of his words taking her back to the night they met, making her stomach clench sickly. He pushes past her, storming out of the room and leaving her to turn to Connor, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“What the fuck is his problem?” she asks, her hands shaking with the sudden spike in her adrenalin. “He knows that Morgan isn’t like that, hell, a few weeks ago he was pushing me to go out with the guy.”

 “Ah, you know Murph, always gotta be your white knight. I’ll go straighten him out, don’t ya worry, lass. You go out and have a good time, okay?” Connor tells her, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he leaves the room, turning back at the door to give her another glance. “You look beautiful by the way.”

She looks at the empty doorway, a small smile on her lips, trying to push down the annoyance that Murphy has planted in the pit of her stomach. She checks her watch and realizes Morgan is probably already downstairs to pick her up and she hurries out, thinking the last thing she needs right now is for him to come into contact with Murphy. Thankfully, he’s waiting by the bar and the brothers are nowhere in sight so she ushers him out, waving goodbye to Doc, who gives her a wink and a nod as she leaves. Morgan opens the car door for her and she sinks into the seat, mentally shaking herself of what just happened and turning her attention to him instead.

He’s chosen a nice restaurant, nothing too fancy, which wins him extra points. She knows he’s not going over the top to impress her and that says a lot about his personality. As the waiter pours her wine, she starts to relax, laughing with Morgan as they look over the menu together. He’s the perfect date, charming, witty, attentive and he’s obviously into her which is why she’s surprised when, halfway through her main course, Murphy’s face appears in her mind’s eye, that look of raw anger etched across his features. She tries to concentrate on her food and what Morgan is saying but inwardly she’s seething about Murphy. How dare he speak to her like that? Even after everything they’ve shared he still doesn’t have any right to treat her that way. She pushes away her plate, appetite gone, and her stomach roiling in anger. Somehow she makes it through the rest of the evening, returning Morgan’s conversation and laughing in all the right places but her heart is no longer in it and she’s cursing Murphy for ruining the first date she’s had in ages.

At the end of the night Morgan drops her off back at the bar, giving she a chaste kiss good night but she’s too distracted to even really notice. She storms up the stairs, looking for Murphy but he’s not there, just Connor, who can see by the look on her face that she’s pissed.

“Where is he?” she demands.

“I don’t know, Lucia, I swear,” he replies, holding up his hands as she advances on him. “He went out just after you left and I haven’t heard from him since. He’s probably sulking in a bar somewhere.”

She stares him down, knowing he’d do anything to protect his brother and then sighs, knowing he’s telling the truth.

“Don’t be too harsh on him, lass, you know he’s holding a candle for ya, has been ever since the night we found ya I think. I don’t know what went down between you two but I guess talking about the possibility of ya dating another guy and actually seeing it in front of his nose was a wee bit too much for him. Give him time, he’ll come around to the idea.”

Lucia feels a little of the anger draining from her body at Connor’s words, knowing the truth in them. She knows Murphy’s always been sweet on her but she never really took it seriously, even less so after the night she spent with him and his words the next morning about keeping their relationship just as friends. Feeling more confused now than angry, she tells Connor she’s going to bed but once she gets to her room and changes into her pajamas, she can’t sleep. Her mind is picking over all the little moments she’s shared with Murphy, all the times he’s looked out for her, the little things, like giving her his jacket when she’s cold to the big things, like stepping in front of her in the bar the night Colleen’s brother came looking for a fight. After laying there for a few hours, restless and still with no clear answers in her mind, she gets up, padding silently in her bare feet down the hall to his room. The door is slightly ajar and she knocks softly on it, whispering his name and pushing it further open, only to find his bed is still made and the room is empty. The need to talk to him now is burning in her so she curls up on his bed to wait, pulling his blanket over her and surrounding herself in his scent where, inevitably, she falls asleep.

“Lucia,” Murphy’s voice is pitched low and close to her ear and she smiles at the sound in her half-asleep state.

“Lucia!” he repeats, harsher this time, enough to rouse her from her slumber and with that same sulky, pissed off tone he’d used on her before she left.

She open her eyes in the dull moonlight that’s the only illumination in his room and finds him leaning over her. He straightens up as she swings herself into a sitting position, pushing off his blanket and remembering why she’s in his bed.

“What are you doing in here?” he hisses.

“Waiting to talk to you,” she replies quietly, standing up which forces him to take a step back. “I am so pissed at you right now, I don’t even know where to start.”

Murphy drops his gaze to the floor, shifting his weight uncomfortably for a moment and then raises his head back up to square his jaw and look her dead in the eye.

“So let me have it then,” he says in that same pissed off tone that he used on her earlier.

“You can’t have it both ways, Murphy. You can’t fool around with me and then tell me it means nothing and that we’re just friends, then talk to me the way you did tonight because I go out with somebody else. It’s not fair. What you said earlier hurt me badly and I don’t think I deserved that.”

“Lucia,” he says, the angry lines fading from his face to be replaced with a look of intense guilt. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I would ever do, you know that. I just… seeing you with someone else… knowing that he might have his hands on you later… it just made me a little crazy.”

“But you gave up the right to feel like that when you told me you didn’t want to make things complicated with us. Was that a lie?”

Murphy lowers his gaze to the floor again, his arms hanging limp at his sides and Lucia can read the truth in every line of his body. Taking him by surprise, she steps forward and he automatically backs away, with her pressing forward until he thumps into the wall behind his door, a puzzled look on his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks, confusion in his voice.

“Remembering the very first time you kissed me in here,” she answers softly and she sees a look pass across his face that stops her in her tracks, telling her that he remembers too, that he wasn’t so drunk he forgot.

“You knew?” she asks accusingly. “You remembered what happened that night but pretended not to. Why?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you, make you feel uncomfortable,” Murphy replies, voice barely above a whisper, rubbing nervously at his lip with his thumb. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

“And now?”

“I still want you to stay,” he whispers, not meeting her eyes.

“Then show me that you do,” she tells him and he looks at her with a hopeful expression, obviously trying to judge if there’s a hidden meaning to her words.

She takes his hand and presses her lips to his palm in a single kiss and that’s all it takes for his hesitation to be gone. His hand slides along her cheek, cupping behind her head as he pulls her face to his, lips eagerly finding hers. He kisses her with a tenderness that surprises her, one hand resting lightly on her hip and the other maintaining its gentle pressure at the back of her head, occasionally stroking her hair as he takes his time exploring her mouth. Slowly and languidly his lips maintain their motion against hers, their tongues tangling until she feels that they’re breathing as one and all that exists is him kissing her and her kissing him back.

Gradually his body has pressed into hers, flattening her against the cool wall but she doesn’t even notice until he eventually breaks their kiss, breath coming in hot little puffs against her lips before he pulls his head back to look into her eyes. She’s intensely aware of the firmness of his body covering hers, his bare feet straddling hers, his hand still touching her hip through the thin material of her pajamas.

“Murphy,” she breathes out his name, loving its taste in her mouth and the way it pulls a smile across his lips when he hears it, “close the door.”

He steps back out of her personal space and slowly eases the old door closed, leaning with his hands splayed against it for a moment as if lost in his thoughts. She moves behind him, arms reaching to turn him back around to face her, slipping her hands under the edge of his t-shirt to push it up and off, his hands finishing the job for her then dropping to his sides. Her hands skim across his abdomen, tracing scars from long-forgotten fights, his skin still cool from the night air outside, his rosary bouncing against his taut muscles. Dipping her head, she runs the tip of her tongue along his collarbone, feeling his skin dimple under her touch. At the base of his throat, she sucks his skin between her lips, grazing it with her teeth but not hard enough to leave a mark, and then kisses the same spot lightly. His hands come up to grip firmly at her upper arms, holding her just slightly back from him and she looks up at him, puzzled.

“Morgan?” he says, nothing more, and she know it’s definitely a question.

“History,” she replies, hands sliding up to rest against his chest. “Let’s just say there was somebody else on my mind the whole evening. Even if I was thinking about kicking your ass!”

She shoves him playfully and he at least has the good grace to look guilty, his hands loosening on her arms.

“Lucia, I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” he starts but she holds a finger up to his lips.

“It’s done, okay, forgotten. All that matters now is this.”

She raises herself slightly on her toes to once again reach his lips with hers, kissing him as gently as he kissed her, until his arms wrap around her waist and he pulls her back into his body. She can feel his skin warming under her touch as her hands caress his back, slipping down to tease their way into the waist of his low-slung jeans and squeeze his ass. He kisses her like he never wants to stop and she can feel her arousal growing by the minute with every soft lick of his tongue against hers and, between them, where his body is flush against hers, she can feel the outline of his hard-on through his jeans. But something tells her not to rush him, where she would maybe take the lead at this point, urge him on a little bit, her brain is telling her to just let him go at his own pace. This feels different than the last time they were together, the fact that they’re making this move signaling a shift in their relationship despite their earlier reservations.

Eventually, he gives her a final kiss and loosens his hold on her a little, running his tongue across his lips as his hands slip up under her top, his skin rough against hers, to lift it over her head. He kisses her again, briefly this time, her bare breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples hardening under the friction. With one hand he cups the underside of her breast, thumb rolling over the sensitive nipple again and again until her breath quickens in her throat and she thinks she might come from that alone if he keeps it up. With slightly shaking fingers she unzips his jeans, pushing at them until they slide over his narrow hips and pool to the floor where he steps out of them, standing naked before her. Quickly she slips off her pajama bottoms and presses herself back against him, seeking another kiss as her hands grab at his hips and she steers him slowly back until he bumps against the bed.

He sits on the edge, pulling her to him, his hands resting warmly on her hips as he dips his head to lick and kiss his way across her stomach before working his way back up to suck softly at each of her nipples until she’s moaning softly above him. With her hands on his shoulders, she climbs onto his lap, straddling his thighs with hers and taking his mouth in a deep kiss. His hands slip around to stroke her spine, eliciting even more shivers of delight from her body, then move down to cup her ass, squeezing firmly before coming around to stroke gently up and down her thighs. Still lost in his kiss, she shuffles her hips forward until she’s rewarded with the smooth, hot skin of his shaft pressing against her open pussy. She grinds against him, rubbing her wet lips against his length, moaning at the friction on her inflamed clit. Murphy makes a gruff sound deep in his throat that vibrates against her mouth and she feels his hand pull away from her thigh and thrust down between them instead, effectively pushing her off his cock as he starts circling her clit.

He manipulates her with his fingers until she has to stop kissing him, her breath coming in short gasps as he slides his fingers up inside her, thumb pressing against her clit as she tightens around him. His eyes are watching her with that intense Murphy stare as he increases the speed of his movements, owning her body completely in that moment. As she comes, fingers dug into his shoulders, mouth wide, juices drenching his hand, he bites at his lip and doesn’t stop working at her until he feels her relax against him. She reaches for his hand, drawing it up to her lips and slowly sucks her juices from each of his fingers, finishing with his thumb as his mouth opens in a silent groan.

“Murphy,” she whispers, forehead resting against his, “Murphy, Murphy, Murphy.”

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her, licking his way against her tongue for the longest time and she can still feel the heat of his cock under she and her body is practically screaming for him to be inside her. Still he keeps kissing her, hands roaming her skin with a light touch and she almost feels like he’s holding back.

“Murphy?” she says softly, stopping his kiss. “Baby, is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he looks at her, puzzled.

“Don’t you want to…” she rocks her hips against him slowly.

“More than anything.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Because the last time, I never got to do this,” he glances down to where his cock is pressed hard against his belly, then back up at her. “I never got to be inside you and I want to remember every single second of the first time that I do.”

“Oh baby” she sighs and takes his face in her hands, covering it in tiny kisses before recapturing his mouth in another deep kiss.

He’s the one to break the kiss this time, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his cock and she shifts her position as he brings the head to rest against her entrance, sliding it down over her still-sensitive clit and pushing just the tip inside her. Gripping his shoulders once more and concentrating on his face, she lowers herself slowly onto him, slipping him easily into her wet pussy. His jaw clenches as their bodies meet in the middle and she squeezes her walls around his length. His blunt fingers dig into her ass as she slowly begins to ride his cock, pulling back just far enough not to lose him inside her and then sliding back down his shaft until he’s buried deep again.

“Fuck, Lucia,” he blurts out, burying his face against her shoulder as she run her fingers through his short, messy hair. “Fuck”.

His face comes up again and now his hands are tightening on her hips, urging her to ride him faster so she does, watching the sweat form on his skin as he bucks beneath her. With one hand she’s clinging to the back of his neck, fingers wrapped in his rosary, and she pushes her other one down to rub at her clit, wanting to come with him when he’s ready. He lets go of her hip on one side and slides his fingers in alongside hers, taking over working at her clit while she fucks him hard. She raises her fingers to his lips and he eagerly dips his head to take them into his mouth, tongue curling around them hotly as he sucks away her juices.

“Holy Jesus, fuck,” he curses, breath heaving from him as she feels his body rippling under hers and his fingers rub furiously at her as, with a final slam of her body down on his, he comes hard inside her and she lets herself go, pulsing around his jerking cock until he’s done.

She’s clinging to him, arms tight around his back as he buries his face to her shoulder once more, his breath hot over her skin, his arms tight around her waist. They stay together like that, just letting their bodies recover their equilibrium and then Murphy loosens his grip on her, flopping backwards on the bed and pulling her down with him, the muscles in her thighs groaning a little after the workout they just had. She lays against his chest, his familiar scent and the sound of his heart warming her core, while he strokes softly at her hair.

“Was it everything you wanted it to be?” she whispers into the darkness, tracing the lines of his ribs with her fingertips.

He grabs her hand and she smiles, remembering that’s one of his ticklish spots, then he tilts her face to his to answer her question with a soft kiss.

“You have no idea, love,” he replies, kissing the tip of her nose and making her smile. “Now what do ya say we actually get into the damn bed?”

She laughs quietly and hauls herself up, legs still trembling slightly while he pulls back the sheets for her to climb in, following to wrap himself around her.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

When Lucia blinks her way into the next day, she instinctively knows it’s late but doesn’t care in the slightest as she feels Murphy’s weight still spooned around behind her, one of his legs tangled with hers and his arm wrapped tightly around her middle. His face is pressed into the back of her neck and she wriggles gently back into him, pulling his hand up from her waist to kiss at his fingers.

“Mmm… mornin’,” comes Murphy’s sleepy voice from behind her, muffled a little by her hair.

She turns a little in his arms, looking back over her shoulder at his ruffled hair sticking up like crazy and his clear blue eyes twinkling at her as he gives her a lop-sided grin.

“Hi,” she says, returning his smile and he places a kiss on her bare shoulder making her sigh. “You’re still here.”

“Not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” he tells her seriously.

“So, we’re making things complicated?’ she asks, wanting to be sure she really understands what his words are implying.

“Well, if me being crazy in love with you is complicating things, then aye lass, we are.”

Lucia grins, wriggling a little against him again, feeling the start of his erection growing against her thigh and he gasps in a small breath, his hand sliding down to caress her breast, pulling gently at her nipple. He’s just working his kisses along the line of her shoulder towards her neck when the bedroom door bangs open and Connor appears in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of unbuttoned jeans, ripped at the knees.

“Yo, Murph, ya ever getting up, ya lazy little fuc..,” he starts then stops as his eyes take in the sight of both of them.

“Well now, what do we have here?” he asks, smug grin firmly in place. “Did I miss my invite? Is there room for one more in there, little brother?”

“Connor,” warns Murphy in a low tone, their eyes locking and Lucia sees Connor raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“Ahh, so it’s like that, is it?”

“Aye, it is,” replies Murphy and Connor grins even wider, backing towards the door, hands raised.

“Well, don’t let me stand in the way of true love,” he says, throwing Lucia a wink, “but if you ever get tired of the imitation and want the real thing, darlin’, you know where my room is.”

Laughing, he pulls the door closed behind him as he leaves, seemingly oblivious to the string of expletives Murphy is yelling after him. Giggling, Lucia pulls Murphy back to her, body molding to his as she look into his eyes.

“How about you show me the real thing?” she asks and he gives her an impish grin of his own before pulling the covers over her giggling head and hiding the pair of them from the world.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

With the status of their relationship now firmly changed from friends to lovers, they begin a new routine over the next few months, learning how to be a couple. This is something which is completely alien for Murphy as most of his relationships have never made it longer than a weekend but he throws himself into it as intensely as he does everything else and Lucia loves him even more for it. Connor’s misgivings about Lucia being involved in what they do by being in a relationship with his brother are soon forgotten as he sees that they’re serious and Murphy is undeniably happier by being with her. He still takes every opportunity to either mock them mercilessly or make joking advances on Lucia but she knows that, when it comes down to it, he’s behind them whole-heartedly.

Lucia had been pretty much oblivious as the burning heat of Summer had slowly crawled its way through the coolness of Fall but she couldn’t ignore the fact that Christmas was almost upon them. Looking back at how radically different her life was at this time last year, she struggles to even remember the person she was back then. Her priorities in life have shifted, not just because of her relationship with Murphy but also by seeing how he and Connor put their lives repeatedly on the line for what they think is right. Suddenly having a nice apartment and an abundance of material trappings to make her existence a happy one, seem unimportant and somehow crass in the face of the misery she hears about on the streets every day. The only thing she still invests her time and money on is her art, the rest of her life seeming inconsequential now and sometimes she wonders if all she really needs to survive is just to be so completely and unconditionally loved as she is by Murphy.


	7. Chapter 7

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Christmas Day is the one day of the year that Doc doesn’t open McGinty’s, choosing instead to provide a home-cooked meal for a group of his regulars that he considers his family, those that don’t have families of their own to share the holidays with. This year finds a larger group than normal gathered in the bar, seated around a group of tables which have been pushed together and dressed with a festive tablecloth. The bar itself is festooned with enough streamers and twinkling lights to make Murphy’s head spin and one corner is dominated by an enormous tree, fully decorated at Lucia’s insistence. Seated beside Connor at the table, he watches as Lucia and Doc carry though the last of the steaming serving platters from the kitchen and place them on the table. Although he had offered to help he had been politely refused unlike Connor who had been chased from the kitchen by Lucia wielding a ladle at his head. Knowing better than to disagree with his girlfriend when she was in one of her creative moods, either in the kitchen or in her studio, Murphy had wisely retreated unlike Connor who had crept back into the kitchen only to come flying out a moment later, ruefully rubbing at the back of his head. Girlfriend, Murphy thinks as Lucia takes a seat beside him and takes his hand while Doc says Grace, the word still sounding strange to him even inside his own head. In all truth he never thought he’d even be here to see Christmas, let alone share it with the woman he loves, but somehow he and Connor had made it to the end of the year mostly unscathed.

By the time the last of his dessert has been licked from his plate, Murphy is feeling fat and satisfied with a warm buzz from the wine that Lucia had poured with dinner, claiming that nobody was drinking beer with her food. He slips an arm around her shoulder next to him and leans in to place a kiss at her temple and murmur a thank you softly in her ear for the wonderful meal she helped make. She leans into his embrace, resting her hand lightly on his thigh and he wonders if anyone would notice if they slipped away for a while. Before he can make the suggestion, Doc claps his hands together and has everyone move to the other side of the bar where he’s set up an old projector ready to show a movie against the screen he had the brothers hang on the wall earlier. Lucia stands up amongst the shuffling of chairs and bodies as everyone gathers in front of the screen and starts piling together the dirty plates.

“Leave it, lass,” says Doc, “we’ll do it after.”

“No, you go on, I’ve got this,” Lucia answers, stooping to kiss his wrinkled cheek.

“I’ll help her, Doc,” adds Murphy, gathering up more dishes. “You go keep your guests entertained.”

Doc protests a little more but Murphy steers him away from the table, reassuring him that they’ve got it and he finally concedes, going to help Connor who is trying to figure out how the antiquated projector works. As Murphy watches them for a second, Doc trying to explain in his own dis-jointed way what to do and Connor not understanding a word, his eyes catch sight of Lucia’s mural as he looks back to the table and he takes a minute to admire it once more. She had unveiled it that morning before anyone else had arrived, giving it to Doc as his Christmas gift from her and the old man had stood there and wept huge, salty tears as he’d looked at it. Lucia had worked on it diligently as much as she could when nobody was around and Murphy had started to think that the paint-stained drop cloth covering that wall was never going to come down. Now, looking at her rendition of the bar’s history painted in exquisite detail on the wall, Murphy knew it had been worth the wait. Showing an array of patrons both past and present, their likenesses pulled from Doc’s impressive collection of meticulously kept old photographs, Lucia had painstakingly added them to a panorama of the bar throughout the years. Murphy’s eyes seek out the small part Lucia had shyly shown him earlier, where she had added him and Connor standing on either side of Rocco, the three of them with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as they grinned like crazy fools. He stares at it for a moment longer, a sad grin tugging at his lips, then exhales deeply and turns away, carrying his tray of dirty dishes through the swing door into the kitchen.

Setting it down on the table, he walks over to Lucia who is elbow deep in wrapping up leftovers for everyone to take home with them and spins her around to kiss her deeply. She gives a small squeak of protest then leans into his touch, folding her forearms around his neck, keeping her greasy hands elevated away from him.

“What was that for?” she asks, a little breathlessly when he pulls away from her a few minutes later.

“’Cos I love ya,” he tells her, kissing the tip of her nose, “and for Doc’s Christmas gift.”

“Oh,” she says, smiling up at him. “Do you really think he liked it?”

“Are you crazy, woman, he fuckin’ loved it, we all did. You’re amazing, baby. That was a really nice thing that you did for him.”

He bends to kiss her again but she ducks out of his arms, waggling her dirty fingers at him.

“Let me finish this, Murph, kissing you is a lot more romantic when I don’t have turkey grease dripping from my fingers.”

“Sure enough, lass,” he laughs, lightly slapping her rear as she turns back to the mountain of food in front of her. “I’ll go get the rest of the dishes then.”

Between the two of them they make light work of the cleanup, Lucia turning to Murphy as she closes the refrigerator door on the last of the leftovers.

“Now we can relax,” she says, nudging him with her elbow as she passes him on her way to the door. “I’m ready for some more of that wine.”

“Wait,” he says, catching her arm and drawing her back to him. “I have something for you.”

She looks up at him expectantly, her green eyes pinning him with an inquisitive look that has him suddenly nervous, fumbling in his pockets to find what he’s looking for and muttering curses under his breath. Taking her hand in his and turning it over, he drops a small, velvet pouch into her palm, the drawstring neck tied with a length of gold ribbon shining against the rich red of the soft material. He watches, holding his breath, as she curls her fingers around its light weight and tugs the ribbon to open it, turning the pouch over to shake its contents onto her palm.

“Murphy?” she questions, looking up at him with shining eyes and then back down to the ring laying on her open palm.

“It’s a Claddagh ring,” he tells her quickly. “You wear it on your right hand, the tip of the heart pointing to your body and it means that you’re taken… I mean, that somebody loves you.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lucia gasps, holding up the fine silver band to the light before slipping it onto her finger and admiring it again. “Murph, I love it.”

“Really?” he asks, relief washing over him.

“Really, really,” she says with a laugh, leaning up to brush her lips over his and then holding up her hand to stare at it again. “But what does it mean if I wear it on my left hand, is that unlucky.”

“No,” Murphy answers, clearing his throat, “on the left hand the heart pointing out means you’re engaged and pointing in signifies marriage.”

Lucia stares at him, a look on her face that he knows means he’s either in big trouble or he’s about to have the time of his life, and then she deftly slips the ring off of her right hand and transfers it to her left, holding it up to him so that he can see the heart is most definitely pointing out. He feels his mouth go dry and he mentally stumbles to find the right words.

“Lucia, no… you don’t have to… it’s not…”

“Why not? Didn’t I just hear you on the phone to your mother this morning telling her you’re going to marry me someday?”

“You heard that?” he stammers, his ears burning with embarrassment.

“Are you kidding me? When you and Connor get on the phone with her, I’m surprised the whole block can’t hear you!”

Murphy reaches down to lift her hand back up and look at the ring securely nestled on her finger.

“Are ye sure, love?” he asks softly, meeting her eyes over the top. “I can’t promise you anything, hell I can’t even promise to be here by the end of the week. Is that really what you want?”

“It is,” she tells him, without hesitation and he can’t stop the smile on his face as he lifts her hand to his lips and softly kisses the ring on her finger.

Giving a loud whoop of joy, Murphy bends to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her up, tilting his head back to capture her giggling lips in a wild kiss. Lucia raises her legs, hooking them around his waist and the two of them slam into the kitchen counter as they lose themselves in the heat of their kiss.

“What the…?” comes Connor’s voice from the door to the bar and they break apart, laughing loudly at his disapproving face. “Can you two keep yer hands off each other for five minutes please? Lord Almighty, it’s the little baby Jesus’ birthday for heaven’s sake, show some fuckin’ respect.”

Lucia giggles even harder and Murphy can’t stop himself from joining her as they cling to each other, snorting and laughing under Connor’s bemused stare.

“Pair of feckin’ eejits,” Connor chides them, shaking his head. “And here I was comin’ to give ya yer wee Christmas gift but I guess you’re too busy havin’ fun on your own to want it now.”

He starts to close the door but Murphy drops Lucia to her feet and grabs it before it shuts.

“Gift?” he asks, wondering what his brother is up to now, knowing that Christmas gifts for them usually consist of a pack of smokes or a six-pack.

“Aye. Thought that might get your interest, baby brother,” Connor smirks from the doorway. “Come on.”

Taking Lucia’s hand in his, Murphy follows Connor back behind the bar and then around it, wondering where they’re going as Connor heads to the front entrance and slides the bolt on the door. Shivering in the snow-filled blast of air that greets them when they go outside, Murphy pulls Lucia in close to his side, wrapping a protective arm around her and hoping that whatever Connor wants to show them, he makes it quick. Big Pete’s van is pulled up to the curb, a light dusting of snow covering it’s battered surface and, with a flourish that would make a Vegas showgirl proud, Connor pulls open the back doors and steps aside. Curiosity has Murphy stepping off the curb to look inside, half expecting the back of the van to be empty and for Connor to think it hysterical that they both followed him out into the freezing cold for nothing. To his surprise, what he finds is a solid-looking wooden bed frame, in pieces for easy transport, and what looks to be a king-sized mattress. Dumbfounded he looks at his brother who’s standing to one side looking like a cat that got the cream.

“Figured you two love-birds could use a bit of extra room to maneuver and I’m tired of hearing those damn squeaky bedsprings, night after fuckin’ night, no matter whose room you’re in.”

“You bought us a bed?” Lucia squeals, bouncing up onto her toes to throw her arms around Connor’s neck and Murphy claps his brother on the back.

“Sure did, darlin’, now let’s get some help out here to get this thing inside before me bollocks drop off from the cold,” Connor grins, pushing Lucia back towards the bar where she disappears inside and Big Pete reappears a minute later.

With Connor and Murphy carrying the mattress between them, Big Pete brings up the rear with the bulk of the bed frame, the three of them stacking everything outside of Lucia’s door. She’s already stripped the bedding from her existing bed and moved aside the table so, while Big Pete goes back downstairs for the remaining pieces and his tools, the brothers haul out the old metal frame and move it into one of the other storage rooms. Shooing Lucia and Murphy out of the room, Connor tells them that this is his gift so he’ll take care of the assembly and they can unwrap it properly at bedtime. Murphy steers a protesting Lucia back down the stairs where they re-join Doc and the others, re-filling her wine glass and pulling her down on his lap to watch the end of the movie with him. Not much later, Connor and Big Pete come back down and Connor makes Lucia promise that she won’t go look until bedtime much to her chagrin.

As the evening winds down and everyone leaves, Murphy and Lucia make their way up the stairs with a smirking Connor trailing behind them. Opening the door to their room, even Murphy is touched by the effort Connor has gone to with their gift. The new bed dominates the room but Murphy knows it’s more than worth it when he sees the delighted look on Lucia’s face as she runs a hand over the elegant new bedding that Connor has dressed the bed in, even going as far as laying a wrapped chocolate on each pillow and placing an enormous red bow and ribbon across the middle. He turns to his brother who is watching from the doorway, a beaming smile on his face, and nods his thanks before Lucia grabs Connor in a fierce hug and kisses his cheek.

“Now ya can think of me every time ya slip between the sheets, lass,” he says with a wink, laughing as she pushes him away to turn her attention back to the bed. “Murph, a quick word before I go.”

“Where are you going, it’s Christmas night?” Lucia asks, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Got a date with the pretty young thing who helped me pick out all this for ya yesterday. Let’s just say she was more than happy to show me what she had in the stock room.”

“Connor!” Lucia exclaims. “Please don’t tell me I have to wash these before we can use them.”

“Nah, lass, you’re fine. I made sure we got ya fresh ones when we were done,” Connor leers at her.

“Thank heavens for small mercies,” she tells him, sticking her tongue out at him before heading into the bathroom and closing the door.

Connor takes Murphy’s arm and steers him out into the hallway where he stands facing him, a more serious look on his face.

“You okay?” Murphy asks, wondering what’s going on.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the ring, baby brother,” Connor says, reaching out to wrap a warm hand around the back of Murphy’s neck. “When were you planning on sharing that wee bit of information?”

“It kinda just happened, Con, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

“Kinda just happened? What kind of proposal was that?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly propose,” Murphy mumbles, looking at the floor.

“Oh, Murphy, Murphy, Murphy,” laughs Connor, shaking his head and squeezing the back of Murphy’s neck. “Well, you better make sure you do and you do it right. Ma’s gonna expect some big romantic tale about how her wee man got down on one knee and ‘it kinda just happened’ ain’t gonna cut it.”

“You okay with this?” Murphy asks, meeting his brother’s eyes.

“Hell yeah, you know I am. I love Lucia as if she were my own, you know that, and I see how happy she makes you. I know I had my doubts about you two hooking up in the start and I know that all of those reasons are still there but I think you’re stronger with her than without. Besides think of all the hot, Italian bridesmaids I’m going to get to pick from at the wedding.”

“Pfft, keep dreaming,” Murphy scoffs, pulling out of Connor’s grasp. “And I wouldn’t count on a wedding any time soon.”

“Says you,” Connor laughs, walking away and heading back down the stairs. “Let’s see what the little woman has to say, shall we.”

Murphy flips him the finger and sends him on his way with a curse in his ear before pushing open the door to his room and going back to Lucia, ready to give their new bed a workout. The sight that greets him inside the bedroom has him slamming the door quickly behind him before he stands there, hands on hips, to admire the view. Lucia is laying back against the pillows, naked except for the large bow Connor had placed on the bed covering her privates, the lengths of ribbon coming from its center to run up over her breasts to her shoulders. Murphy can feel the first stirring ache in the pit of his stomach as he lets his eyes run slowly over her form, taking in every detail while he slips out of his own clothes. Her body turns him on in ways he didn’t even know about and he loves the fact that she's not afraid to show it to him, even though she complains sometimes about the thickness of her middle or the size of her breasts. To him, she’s perfect and anything that she perceives as a flaw just makes her more perfect in his eyes. He's been with a lot of women in his time, more so in his younger days when sex for him was all about his gratification and it took him a while to learn that, if he just took his time and made sure his partner was happy first, it would only benefit him in the long run, so he taught himself what a woman likes through a lot of trial and error.

His first time, at fifteen, had been rough and nasty with an older woman Connor had met in a bar who had agreed to do both of them for the price of a few drinks. Connor was already miles ahead of him, having lost his virginity over a year before and never letting Murphy forget it as he charmed women of all ages into his bed. The girls Murphy slept with all seemed to be the same to him, local girls who were either incredibly inhibited and hid away under the covers in the dark while he fucked them or ones who would brazenly blow him in the alley behind the bar, kneeling in the filth for the price of a drink and a little charm. Apart from one girl back when he was around nineteen or twenty who had eventually moved out of the city, he had never found anyone he’d wanted to share more than a few random hook-ups with. He looked at the guys he knew who were his age but were already married or had been seeing the same girl since high school and he wondered how they did it, how they kept having sex with the same woman over and over without craving something different. Looking down at Lucia now, a soft smile warming her lips and her green eyes reflecting the glow of the candles she’s lit around the room as she stares up at him in anticipation, he suddenly gets it. He understands that it’s not about the sex, at least not completely, it’s about the need to be so intimate with another person that it creates a longing he can feel in his very core.

Naked, he stands at the edge of their new bed smiling down at her, feeling the blood already flowing to his cock and stiffening it.

“Now what would ya have done if Connor had come back in, eh love?”

“Charged him admission,” Lucia replies with a wink, shrugging her shoulders which causes the strategically placed ribbon to slip, giving Murphy a tantalizing glimpse of her hardened nipple.

Murphy climbs onto the bed, sinking into the downy softness of the comforter but feeling the firmness of the new mattress below his knees. He runs his hands up from Lucia’s ankles, stroking her skin with a firm touch, massaging and caressing his way up her thighs and over the curve of her hips. He lays a light smattering of kisses in the wake of his hands, the scent of her jasmine lotion rising from her heated skin to tickle at his nose. Avoiding the bow covering her center, he scrapes his teeth along her hip bones, sucking at the sensitive flesh surrounding them and she reaches out to lay a hand softly on his head, running her fingertips through his short hair. Looking up, he sees her idly cupping her breast with her free hand, her fingers kneading her flesh and delicately plucking at her nipple. He sits back up, reaching his hand out to wrap around her other breast, squeezing slightly before pulling the puckered nub of her nipple into hardness and then rolling his palm over it. She exhales a deep sigh as he slides his hand across to gather the ribbon from where it’s pooled in her cleavage and slowly peels it away until, with a small tug, he pulls the bow from her mound and exposes her to him.

“Sit up,” he instructs her, wrapping the long length of the thick ribbon thoughtfully around his fists.

She pushes herself up towards him and he takes the silky material in his hands, tearing the bow from the end, to cover her eyes with it, tying it firmly behind her head. His heart beats a little faster at the sight of her in front of him, vulnerable to his will but having absolute trust in him that he won’t do anything to harm her. He reaches out to stroke her cheek, running his fingers down along her jawline before brushing the pad of his thumb back and forth on her bottom lip. He’s amazed by the fact that she’s brought out such a confidence in him that he feels he can initiate sexual games between them such as this, whereas before he would always follow his partner’s lead. He gasps slightly as she parts her lips to capture his thumb with her mouth, slowly wrapping it with her tongue before hollowing her cheeks to suck it hard and then release it with a popping sound. He leans in to kiss her, wanting so badly to taste her, his tongue sliding thickly against hers as his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Letting his hands drop to her shoulders, he parts his lips from hers and pushes her gently back down to lay on the bed. Kneeling by her feet, he takes hold of her ankles, gently bending her knees up and apart until he’s staring at the slick pinkness of her open pussy, finding his mouth suddenly dry. Leaning over her, letting his cock rub against her wet lips, he runs his tongue along the hollow at the base of her throat and up her neck to whisper hotly in her ear.

“Touch yourself,” he breathes, before sitting back to watch the slow smile spread across her lips.

She spreads her legs wider, pressing one foot firmly against his thigh, her hands resting lightly on her knees at first and then slipping up her body to take her breasts in her hands and gently squeeze them. He knows how much it turns her on to have him watch her as she takes care of herself, knowing that her movements are turning him on just as much as they are her. He’d never really watched a woman pleasure herself before Lucia, aside from in the never-ending array of porn movies he and Connor would watch when they had nothing better to do. And those were nothing like experiencing it for real, watching the soft glide of her fingertips as she gently teases her clit, rolling it between her fingers, smelling the scent of her sex ripe on the air as her arousal increases and hearing the soft gasps falling from her lips and the wet sucking sounds as her fingers push and pull inside her. Murphy wraps his hand tightly around his cock, stroking his shaft with slow, precise movements, wanting to bring himself close but not wanting to push himself too far until he’s ready. His other hand stretches down and teases gently at his balls, tugging at himself as he watches Lucia pinch her nipples, arching her back before pushing her fingers down to work at her dripping pussy with both hands. Her hips push up from the bed, her small toes curling into his thigh as she rubs faster at her clit with one hand and fingers herself with the other, her moans increasing as he watches her orgasm build.

When she comes, she lets loose with a small yell, her hands dropping to her sides to clutch at the bedclothes as her hips thrust skyward and Murphy can clearly see the pulsing of her pussy. As her body drops back to the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her nerves fluttering under the skin on her stomach, he moves over her silently, knowing that she’s lost in the aftermath and, with one swift thrust, he buries himself inside of her. She yells again as he fills her, his balls slapping against her as he grabs her hips and pulls her up to meet him. She’s so wet that he can feel her juices dripping from her as he pulls back and rams into her again, her walls contracting around him and he feels the rippling pulses of her orgasm still running through her. He holds still inside her, his hands resting either side of her as he waits for her body to still and her breathing to even out. When he sees her bite her lip, the small crease of a frown appearing above her blindfold, he finally lets go, pulling back and then rocking his hips slowly back into her, enjoying the slick sensation of the head of his cock parting her pussy walls for him. She throws her arms above her head in a familiar move, looking to grab onto the bedframe and finding instead only the smooth wood of the new headboard and groaning in frustration.

Leveraging his weight onto one arm, Murphy reaches up to grasp her wrists under his hand, effectively pinning her arms down as he increases the speed of his thrusts into her. He’s grunting loudly with each thrust, her breasts rubbing against his chest as he rocks back and forth against her and he can feel her tilting her hips up to meet him each time, her body straining under his. Murphy can feel the sweat slicking both of their bodies and the air is heavy with the scent of their love-making. With all the horror that he sees, all the death that he brings albeit in the name of justice, this is his redemption, he thinks, being here with her, being one with her and just being able to lose himself completely to her. Aside from Connor, there is nothing or nobody that he treasures more than her and he would die or kill to protect her if it meant that he could have this feeling for the rest of his life, however long that may be. With a final punishing thrust, he comes inside her, his body crushed against her as he jerks his hips over and over, pumping his seed into her, dimly aware that she’s yelling his name as she comes again too. His head drops down to rest against her forehead, his eyes closed as his breath burns in his lungs and he feels his heart racing in his chest.

He knows that he’s smothering her a little with his weight but she doesn’t make any motion to move him, so he lays, still buried inside her, enjoying the sensations he can feel coursing through his body and hers. He wants to stay inside her forever, yearns for it more than anything else but, inevitably, his cock softens and he withdraws from her, hearing her sharp intake of breath at the loss of him. Pushing himself back up, he releases her wrists and sees her flex her hands to restore the feeling in them before he climbs off the bed on slightly shaky legs and bends back down to scoop her up into his arms.

“Murph?” she laughs, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Can’t have you leavin’ a sticky mess on our nice new bed now, can we?” he tells her, carrying her into the narrow bathroom and sitting her carefully down on the edge of the bath with her feet inside.

Turning on the tap over the sink, he lets the warm water run and generously soaks a washcloth under it, ringing it out just a little before he steps up behind Lucia and leans over her shoulder. Starting at her neck, Murphy uses the wet cloth to rub gentle circles across her skin, moving down to cover each of her breasts in turn, sliding the wet material under each one and then up over her nipples. Returning to the sink, he warms the cloth again under the stream of water and, this time, turns his attention to her back, moving out across her shoulders and down the length of her arms to her fingertips. Lifting her hair, he washes the back of her neck and then glides the cloth down her spine and across each of her buttcheeks. By this time, Lucia is breathing deeply and evenly, her body leaning into his caress as he gently takes care of her. With the washcloth once again refreshed with hot water, he leans over her again to swipe it across her stomach and out along her thighs before nudging them apart and pressing its wet heat against her pussy. She lets out a small gasp, her hands grasping at the edge of the tub as he carefully wipes away the combination of his and her fluids from her entrance. After teasing her for a moment, he withdraws his touch, smiling at the small growl of disappointment he hears her make under her breath, and rinses out the cloth again.

Pressing his body to her back, he feels her lean into him in response, knowing that she’s aching for him to continue and wanting to tease her a little more. He lets the water drip hotly onto the flesh of her thigh, working it higher as she presses harder against him and shifts her feet further apart in the bottom of the tub. Tipping her head back with his free hand, he captures her mouth in a sideways kiss, his tongue flicking at hers as he presses the hot, wet cloth back against her pussy and wipes it from top to bottom. She groans against his lips as he digs his fingers against her clit, the wet cloth rubbing against the swollen bundle of nerves and she throws her arms up to wrap around the back of his neck as he works on getting her off again. It doesn’t take long until her over-stimulated body is shuddering under his touch and she braces her feet against the other side of the tub as she comes once more, Murphy wrapping his arms around her as he feels her muscles loosen.

“That’s my girl,” he croons softly against her ear, “my dirty, wet girl. Makin’ even more mess for poor ol’ Murphy to clean up.”

He holds her until she stops trembling and then loosens the blindfold around her eyes, watching as her lust-widened pupils contract to pinpricks in the harsh light of the bathroom.

“Ah, sorry love,” he apologizes, reaching over to flip the light back off, the room illuminated by the dim candlelight coming from the bedroom.

“I think I can forgive you,” she says with a soft smile, standing up and turning to face him.

He catches her arm as she sways a little, the blood rushing back to her limbs, and she draws him to her, pulling his head down for a slow kiss. When it’s over, she plucks the cold washcloth from his grasp and steps out of the tub to thrust it back under the hot water and he sees her eyeing his semi-hard cock with a lick of her lips.

“My turn,” she says, wrapping the wet heat around his length and he shudders.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Murphy chuckles as his breath quickens at her light touch and he has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

With the festivities of Christmas behind them, New Year’s Eve comes and goes with such a huge celebration that Murphy thinks he may still be hungover from it now, over two weeks later. He’s helping one of Doc’s delivery drivers load empty barrels back on his truck, sweat breaking out on his back despite the fact that he’s only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt over his jeans in the snow that has barely given the city a break since before Christmas. He’s just lifting the last barrel when Big Pete appears in the open doorway beside him, a look of concern etched on his normally amiable features and Murphy throws him a questioning look.

“You better come,” Big Pete says anxiously, “some guy is harassing Lucia.”

Murphy’s blood chills as he heaves the barrel fully onto the flatbed of the truck and takes off like a rabbit into the building, yelling at Pete to go find Connor. The scene he finds when he enters the room from behind the bar makes his temper flare instantly. Lucia had walked to the grocery store nearby to pick up a few things to make him and Connor dinner that night and Murphy can see the abandoned bags sitting on the top of the bar, their contents spilling out across the surface. She had obviously made it as far as the low swing door that leads behind the bar before her way was blocked by a large man who currently has his hand gripped tightly around her wrist and is preventing her from going any further. Without stopping, Murphy vaults the surface of the bar in one fluid move and thrusts himself between them, not caring that the guy is at least a head taller and has maybe a good 30lbs of muscle over him.

“Take your fuckin’ hands off her, now,” Murphy yells, shoving the guy hard in the chest and he breaks his grip on Lucia’s wrist.

“Murphy,” she shouts, her hands grabbing at his waist to restrain him, “it’s okay.”

“Who the fuck is this prick, Lucia, and why does he have his fucking hands on you?”

“I’m her husband, asshole,” the guy interjects before Lucia can reply and Murphy feels his entire world tilt on its axis.

“Husband?” he asks, whirling to face Lucia whose guilt-ridden expression tells him the truth before she can even open her mouth.

“Ex-husband,” she spits harshly, jabbing her finger over Murphy’s shoulder at the other guy, “and for good reason.”

“Aww, c’mon now, baby, you know you don’t mean that,” croons the guy behind Murphy and he has to restrain Lucia as she lashes out at him.

“Look, I don’t give a shit who you are,” Murphy tells him, turning back around and keeping himself firmly between Lucia and the guy, “but I think it’s time you got the fuck outta here.”

“Oh yeah, and who’s going to make me?” the guy sneers, folding his impressive arms across his chest and staring down at Murphy.

“That would be us.”

Murphy can’t keep the grin hidden that’s twitching at his lips as Connor comes to stand beside him, reaching out a hand to clasp Murphy’s shoulder and look the other guy up and down.

“I go out for half an hour and you guys can’t keep out of trouble?” Connor asks, throwing a wry smile back over his shoulder at Lucia who is still clinging to the back of Murphy’s shirt.

“Nothing I can’t handle, brother,” answers Murphy, crossing his arms high across his chest and staring pointedly at the man in front of them.

“Is that so?” Connor says, lifting his hand from Murphy’s neck and crossing his arms to mirror his brother. “Well it doesn’t seem like your friend here is taking the hint.”

“I’m not going anywhere until Lucia and I have a conversation.”

“Dylan, I have nothing to say to you, not now, not ever,” Lucia says in a tired voice and Murphy can feel the heat from her fingers where they’re clutched in his shirt.

“Alright, big feller, you heard the lady,” says Connor, stretching out a hand towards Dylan’s arm, “she doesn’t want to talk to ya. It’s time to leave.”

Dylan slaps away Connor’s hand and that’s just the move Murphy’s been waiting for this asshole to make. With a primal yell, he surges forward, shoving Dylan in the chest and crashing him back into the edge of the bar with a resounding crack.

“That’s it,” Connor yells, grabbing Dylan’s arm and twisting it viciously up behind him, “you’re outta here, fucker.”

Dylan struggles but, even with his extra height and bulk, he’s no match for both of the twins now that they’re riled up. Lucia steps back as the brothers manhandle him across the bar and out onto the street, all three of them shouting curses and threats at each other until they shove him away from the door, warning him not to return. He stands outside, hurling more threats at them until he suddenly seems to come to his senses and turns and leaves without another word. Once they’re sure he’s actually gone, Murphy storms back into the bar despite Connor’s pleas for him to calm down, shaking off Lucia’s hand as she tries to slow him when he barrels past her and up the stairs. He’s feeling so hurt and pissed off that he can’t even stand to be in the same room as her, let alone want to talk to her. He takes the stairs two at a time, heading directly for the roof, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and wanting to get as far away as he can, a sick feeling of betrayal gripping at his insides.  


	8. Chapter 8

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Lucia stares at the closed door in front of her, listening to the sound of Murphy’s angry bootsteps echoing up the stairs on the other side followed by the slamming of a door above. She reaches out her fingers to turn the knob and go after him but Connor lays a hand on her forearm and gently steers her away.

“Leave him be for a bit, lass, you know how he gets,” he tells her in a sympathetic voice. “C’mon, I’ll help you put the groceries away and you can tell me what that was all about.”

With a last, reluctant glance at the door behind her, Lucia trails after Connor as he picks up the scattered groceries from the bar top and carries them into the kitchen. While they empty the bags and put everything away, Lucia gives him a brief explanation of what had happened and who Dylan is but all she really wants to do is go after Murphy. Barely ten minutes has passed since he stormed out and she can’t stand it anymore, ignoring Connor’s advice to give his brother a little longer to cool off, she heads out of the kitchen. Racing up the stairs, she checks first in their room and, when she doesn’t find him there, she goes from room to room along the hall but he’s nowhere in sight. Exasperated, she wonders if he’d left the back way while she was occupied with Connor but then she spies the door leading up to the roof access is slightly ajar and she pushes it open, climbing the short flight of stairs beyond it. Opening the door at the top, she’s met with a frigid blast of air as she steps out onto the snow-covered roof and looks around, relieved that she hadn’t yet taken her coat off after her trip to the store. She’s not so relieved to find Murphy huddled against the wall of the building in nothing but his t-shirt, his body visibly trembling with the cold, a cigarette burning between his lips. He narrows his eyes at her as she approaches, the scowl on his face made less effective by the sudden shiver that shakes his frame.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lucia,” he warns her in a low tone.

“Good, because I don’t need you to talk, all I need you to do is listen,” she tells him, squaring off in front of him, instinctively trying to block him from some of the icy wind. “When I’m done, then you can decide if you want to talk to me or not. Fair?”

He doesn’t answer her but he also doesn’t make any move to walk away from her either so she takes that as his consent to carry on. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she straightens her back and meets his accusing gaze.

“I’m guessing you think I lied to you by not telling you I’d been married before, that you feel hurt and betrayed and you wonder what else I haven’t told you, right?” she asks and she can see by his face that’s exactly what’s going through his mind right now. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t consider that I was ever really married and I closed the door on that part of my life a long time ago.”

“Don’t seem that closed to me,” Murphy interjects with a derisive snort but Lucia can see that she’s piqued his interest.

“How about we go inside and you can be mad at me there?” she suggests, wanting to get Murphy inside before he gets frostbite.

He shrugs but steps away from the wall and follows her back across the roof, closing the door behind them so that they’re standing in the small stairwell. He stops just inside the door, the only light coming from the luminous emergency exit sign behind his head, his face mostly in shadows when Lucia turns back to look up at him.

“I met Dylan in college,” she continues, talking slowly despite the urgency she feels to explain herself and hopefully have the disappointed look on Murphy’s face go away. “He was on a football scholarship, of course, and I was studying art history and design and he just… swept me off my feet, I guess is the right term. He wasn’t like the boys I’d dated in high school, he was driven and assertive, he knew what he wanted and he went for it. I was nineteen, a little naïve for sure, and he seemed exciting and more mature than most of the guys I knew there so I was flattered when he was interested in me.”

“Sounds like a catch,” Murphy mutters, taking a seat on the chilly staircase and wrapping his arms around himself.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Lucia sighs, sitting on the stair below him, close to his knees in the narrow space but making sure not to touch him as much as she was dying to have that contact with him. “My parents adored him from the moment they met him and it didn’t take long for his family and mine to become good friends, so it only seemed natural that we got engaged as soon as we graduated. I was caught up in it all, swept away with the thought of having our own place and starting a life together. I was a good Italian girl from a good family, this was what was expected of me, what I’d been brought up to want my whole life and I really thought I was happy.

I was a little hesitant when he wanted to get married immediately, I was just getting used to being engaged and figuring out what we were going to do with our lives, but my family put the pressure on, telling me what a catch he was and how I should be grateful and so on. So I put on my dutiful daughter face and went along with it, the big wedding, the home of our own, all the trappings of a supposedly wonderful life.”

Lucia pauses a second, lost in her memories until another shiver, albeit smaller this time, rolls across Murphy’s torso and she resumes her story, feeling his eyes on her but not meeting his gaze.

“But after the excitement of the wedding had died down, when it was just the two of us in that house alone together, that’s when I realized I didn’t really know him as well as I thought I did. He’d always had this jealous streak, all through school, but it just seemed to get worse once we were married until it became borderline obsessive. He had me cut ties with most of my friends and I barely saw my family at all after he moved us to the other side of town from where I’d grown up.

He would go into these massive rages if another man even glanced my way when we were out but he encouraged me to dress like a whore all the time – low cut tops, short skirts, high heels, the whole nine yards – because that was his idea of sexy. When his friends from his frat would come over, which was pretty much every damn week, he’d encourage them to make lewd comments about what I would wear, like it was some sort of joke and then he’d scream at me once they were gone for leading them on.”

She swallows thickly, her emotions about that time of her life having been locked away for so long that she’s surprised to find just how angry she feels now about what happened to her. For a long time she had felt guilt over anything else, guilt that it had taken her as long as it did to do anything about her situation and anger at herself for ever being that person. Glancing at Murphy, she can see his fingers have curled into his palms against his thighs, his knuckles shining in the dull light, but he keeps his silence and lets her continue.

“I had wanted to travel once I’d graduated, visit Europe and study art some more – I’d been saving up from the part time job I’d had in college and from the money my grandmother left me – but he said it was out of the question. Asked me why I needed to go anywhere when I had everything I could ever need right there with him. And, like a fool, I let him convince me that he was right and I was wrong. He helped me use my money to start a web design business instead but it soon became apparent that he just wanted me working from home so that he would always know where I was.”

“Did he hurt you?” Murphy asks, his voice as cold as the snow outside and this time it’s Lucia who shivers.

“No, not in the way that you mean. He never laid a hand on me in anger but he hurt me all the same,” she answers honestly, looking up into Murphy’s face and laying one hand over the tight ball of his fist.

“Tell me,” he says quietly, loosening his hand to clasp at hers.

“He was the first man I ever slept with. There had been boys in high school I’d  fooled around with but I suppose I’d always had that outdated notion in the back of my head that I should save myself for my husband. But, that’s not to say that I didn’t know what I liked and what I didn’t like, I might have been a virgin when I married him but I was far from virginal. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that sex with Dylan was all about his pleasure and it was never going to be about mine and that frustrated the shit out of me.

One of my few remaining friends invited me to one of those home-wares parties one night, which turned out to be code for a sex toy party and I don’t know what made me do it but I came home with this tiny vibrator. That little piece of plastic became my best friend in the whole damn world, let me tell you, until Dylan found it of course, while he was rifling through my make-up bag one night for God knows what reason. He pitched a fit, broke the thing in two with his bare hands and accused me of cheating on him by using it! You’d think I’d slept with the whole damn football team from the way he carried on.”

“What about your folks, they didn’t see how he was treating you?”

“Pfft, are you kidding? He was way too smart for that. He was the picture of mental health to our families, acting like the doting husband whenever we would see them together, charming them with his compliments and his jokes. I was married to him for just four months, Murphy, four endless months where I questioned my own sanity more than once, wondering if I really was doing all the things to provoke him that he said I was. I thought maybe we were just adjusting to living together, that we needed to find our rhythm together, come to a happy middle ground.

I was naïve and stupid, just a silly girl who didn’t know any better. I thought that I could change him but when his mother started dropping hints about us starting a family and he egged her on, pressuring me to stop taking the pill, that’s when reality slapped me in the face and I realized what a monumental idiot I was being. I didn’t want a baby with this control freak, hell I didn’t even want to be married to him anymore. I didn’t love him and he certainly didn’t love me, he just wanted to own me and I was done being his property. But I was weak, or at least I thought I was, I didn’t know how to leave him. I had nothing without him, the house, the money, everything was in his name. I just kept telling myself to be strong and just go but I was scared.”

Murphy slips down off of the step above onto hers and wraps his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest and Lucia can feel his anger like a physical thing, thrumming under his skin.

“But the thing that finally broke me, that made me hate him more than I ever thought I could hate a person in my life?” she tells him, her face turned against his chest. “He killed Misty, my cat. I mean, I couldn’t have proved it but I knew that he did it. I’d had her for three years, adopted her while I was in college and managed to keep her hidden in my dorm until I graduated so of course she came with me when we got married. Dylan hated her and the feeling was mutual. I’d often catch him giving her a sly kick when he didn’t think I was watching and at night he’d throw her off the bed just a little too hard, no matter how many times I begged him not to.

Anyway, I came home from a rare visit with my mom and he tells me the cat got out and he chased after her but she ran into the road and a car hit her and killed her instantly. He told me he’d gotten rid of her body so that I didn’t have to see it. I knew he’d killed her, I could see it on his face the second he started telling me that lame-ass story. Looking back on it now, I think he was jealous of anyone that took my affection away from him and I loved that cat more than anything.

I was hysterical, crying and absolutely beside myself and he didn’t even try to comfort me, all he said before he went back to watching the tv was, ‘Well now you won’t have to complain about getting cat hair on your clothes anymore.’

That was it, that was his response to his wife’s devastation and that was when I knew I had to get out of there. I waited until he was asleep that night and I crept out. I left everything because I didn’t want to even think about what he’d do if he woke up and caught me leaving. I knew I couldn’t go to my parents’ because they’d just call Dylan to come get me the second I walked in the door so I hitched a ride to my younger brother’s place. I already told you he’s the black sheep in our family but we’d always been close and I knew he'd take me in without a second thought even though it was 3am and I wasn’t making a lick of sense by the time I got there, crying about dead cats and fake husbands.

In the morning, I told him everything and he didn’t doubt a word of what I was telling him even though he’d been equally blinded by Dylan’s charm. He called some of the guys he works construction with, good guys every one of them, who came on a moment’s notice and provided me with an escort while I went back to my home and packed up the few belongings I actually wanted. Dylan, of course, ranted and raved the entire time but faced with a whole bunch of pumped up guys just looking for an excuse to rearrange his features, he didn’t try to actually stop me when I left.”

Lucia is crying now, feeling the heat of her tears soaking into the front of Murphy’s shirt and she lets them come while he holds her and rocks her to him, whispering soothing sounds against her hair until she’s done.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, pulling back from him a little and giving him a small smile. “It’s been a long time since I opened this can of worms. I didn’t think it could still affect me like this.”

“Don’t,” Murphy says, gently brushing her hair away from her face and cradling it in his hands. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for this, love. What that fucker did to you wasn’t your fault so don’t ever apologize for it, okay?”

Lucia nods against his hands and he runs the pads of his thumbs under her eyes to swipe away her tears before dropping his hands to hold hers.

“So, what happened?” he asks and she takes a slightly shaky breath before finishing her story.

“I stayed with Robbie for a while, begged him not to tell my parents where I was. I spoke to my Mom of course and found out that Dylan had called her and convinced her that we’d just had a lover’s spat and he wanted to make it right. Even after I told her everything that had been going on, as mortifying as it was for me to have to tell my own mother about all the things he’d done to me, I still knew she couldn’t believe it. I could hear it in her voice and I couldn’t blame her – all she’d ever seen was this charming young man who adored her daughter. But Dylan was going crazy trying to find me, he’d never been to Robbie’s place so he had no idea where to start looking.

He started harassing my parents - making constant phone calls, showing up at my Dad’s job all the time and following my Mom whenever she’d leave the house. Even though they told him over and over that they didn’t know where I was, he just kept it up, each time getting angrier than the last. He began calling them in the middle of the night, threatening them with what he was going to do when he found me. He finally unnerved my Mom so much that she begged me to meet her, miles from home, and when I did, she gave me a plane ticket to Italy. She’d arranged the whole thing, found me family to stay with for a few months while she and my Dad took care of the Dylan situation. She was scared, Murph, I could see it on her face. I think she felt guilty as well for not having seen what was going on and for taking so long to come around.

So I left, got on a plane the next day and didn’t look back. By the time I came home, three months later, Dylan was gone. My parents had gone to the police and filed charges but, before anything could come of it, he’d skipped town. I heard a rumor that he’d gone to live in New York but I didn’t care, I was just happy he was gone. My Dad pulled some strings with some friends of his and had the marriage annulled for me, claiming I was married under forced consent. With Dylan gone, there was nobody to contest it and it was like it never happened. There’s no record that we were ever even married.

I got to make a fresh start and move on with my life. The Lucia that married Dylan was gone, I left her behind when I got on that plane, and when I came home I never wanted to see her again. I took care of me, lived my life how I wanted to live it and I buried the thought of him as deep as I could.”

“Until now,” Murphy adds grimly. “What happened today, how’d he find you?”

“Sheer dumb luck. Turns out he’d run into my aunt Elana a few days ago – she was always soft on him. When the marriage ended, my parents didn’t really give out a lot of details to everyone, so she was more than eager to tell him where I was living now after he fed her some bullshit about how he’d never gotten over me and he was hoping to see me again now that he’s back in town. She didn’t know exactly where I live but I guess my Mom has mentioned the neighborhood to her so it gave him something to go on.

He caught me coming out of the deli, scared the freakin’ shit out of me. He’s been gone for over ten years, Murph, he was the last person I ever expected to see. I didn’t know what to do so I just headed home and he trailed me, begging me to talk to him, telling me he was sorry and he missed me and he wanted to try again. I told him to get lost but he followed me into the bar and you know the rest.”

“Lucia, love,” Murphy says seriously, turning her in his arms to look at her face, “is he dangerous?”

She considers the question carefully before answering, knowing exactly why Murphy is asking. Although she holds no affection for Dylan in any way, shape or form, she knows that what she says next could mean the difference between his life and his death.

“I don’t think so,” she tells him, wrapping her fingers with his cold ones. “I think he has some serious anger issues for sure, he’s a control freak and probably a little unhinged but I think, when the chips are down, he’s all bark and no bite. He may be built like a brick shithouse but I honestly think that he’s a coward underneath all that muscle. Oh he’ll bluster and threaten but I never once saw him follow through.”

“D’ya think he needs another warnin’ or d’ya think he got the message today?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, babe. I want to say yes but I have a feeling he's not going to give up that easy.”

Murphy sighs and Lucia knows that he’s working out what to do and she hates more than anything that this even has to be an issue at all, wishing that Dylan had just stayed buried in her past where he belonged.

“Look, let’s not do anything for now. Let’s play it by ear and see what happens. Maybe it was just an unfortunate fluke that he found me and now that he’s seen that I’m not alone, maybe he’ll just let it go. A lot can change in ten years, he might have genuinely deluded himself into thinking that our relationship was perfect and he wanted to try again but now he knows that’s not going to happen, he’ll just give up on the idea.”

“D’ya really think so?” Murphy asks, his tone telling her that he doesn’t believe it for a second.     

“I want to,” she replies, standing up and pulling him to his feet beside her, “because, right now, I don’t want to consider the alternative, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Murphy nods, biting his lip as he looks at her for a long moment.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Lucia asks in confusion.

“For acting like a jealous douchebag sometimes,” he tells her, looking ashamedly at his feet and her heart trips in her chest.

“No,” she says and his head whips back up at the harshness in her tone. “Don’t say that, it’s not the same, Murph, nowhere close. When you act like that, I know it comes from a place of love and I know it’s not serious. It’s not like you’re going to punch some random guy in the face for holding a door open for me or smiling when I walk past. A little twinge of jealousy over the one you love is a natural human reaction. Hell, you don’t think I feel it when I see some of the women that hit on you in the bar or one of your exes walks in? I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t but it’s how we act on it that makes the difference, where we draw the line before it becomes something dangerous and unhealthy. I don’t worry about you treating me the way Dylan did, not even for a second because I know how much you respect me.”

“Aye, I do,” he tells her softly, drawing her close to rest his forehead against hers.

“Besides,” she teases, wanting to lighten the mood a little, running her palms down the chilled skin of his arms, “one call to your Ma and I’d never have to worry about you again.”

“Hey now, that’s a low blow…” he starts but she silences his protests by pressing her lips against his and kissing him gently.

Murphy mutters against her lips for a second before giving into the insistent kiss she’s laying on him and responding in kind. Lucia kisses him with a mixture of relief and need, glad that what happened hasn’t come between them in any way, not sure what she would have done if he hadn’t wanted to hear what she had to say.

“I love you,” she whispers, a few minutes later, breathing heavily into the side of his neck. “I’m sorry I never told you about my past.”

“It doesn’t matter, love, don’t even worry about it,” he answers, smoothing her hair back with his fingers before tilting her head to capture her lips again.

Lucia leans into his kiss, hungry for him, wanting him to know how much he means to her and how she loves him completely. He parts her lips with his tongue, eagerly exploring her mouth with a slow caress that has her insides turning to jelly the more he continues. It’s one thing she can say for this MacManus brother – he is sure as hell talented with his damn tongue in ways that are guaranteed to make her putty in his hands. His hands are buried in her hair as he teases her lips with his, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth to nibble gently on it before licking over it with the tip of his tongue. She almost thinks that she can pinpoint the moment when his playful teasing descends into an urgency that has him pushing his body against hers, the merest hint of a frustrated groan sounding in the back of his throat. She slips her hands down over his ribs to the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it from his jeans so that she can run her fingers over his bare flesh beneath.

“Oh baby, you’re so cold,” she gasps, breaking their kiss and looking up at him. “Let’s go downstairs and get you warmed up.”

She tugs on his hand and turns to step down but he pulls her back, thrusting her against the wall of the narrow stairwell, the handrail digging roughly into her back as he bends his head to kiss her again, harder this time and she knows they aren’t going anywhere. His teeth graze at her skin as he fumbles to remove her winter coat and throw it to the stairs behind him before quickly peeling her sweater off over her head to follow it. Lucia shivers a little at the sudden change of temperature on her skin but Murphy doesn’t give her time to think about it as he sits her down on her discarded coat to tug off her snow boots and toss them down the stairs, shortly followed by her jeans. Lucia smiles at his desperation to get her naked, her body responding to his frantic movements with a warm ache between her thighs and she can feel herself getting wet already as he practically rips off her bra and panties. With her seated naked before him, he pauses, his eyes devouring her body and she spurs him back into action by slowly spreading her thighs and laying back against the unforgiving stairs underneath her.

With a grunt, he unzips his jeans, pushing them down over his ass along with his underwear, just enough to free his cock, giving a rough stroke to his semi-hard length. He kneels between Lucia’s open legs, leaning his torso over hers to kiss her once more, his right hand going to her breast where he torments her nipple with a series of sharp twists and she curses into his mouth. She can feel his shaft rubbing against her clit, the friction making her ache even more and she bucks her hips under him a little wanting more and feeling her wetness slicking his skin. He ruts against her, kissing and sucking at her mouth until she wants to scream for him to just fuck her already, that she’s aching for the feel of him filling her up. She’s trying to inhale a breath and break their kiss when suddenly he changes position and thrusts his cock into her, stifling the scream she gives with another furious kiss. She braces her feet, lifting them up to hook against the handrails on either side of the narrow staircase as he bangs into her, his mouth leaving hers as he pants for breath. His t-shirt is rubbing against her swaying breasts, stimulating her sensitive nipples and she can feel the weight of his rosary inside the soft material, pressing into her flesh.

“Fuck, Murphy,” she groans, clinging to his back as he pounds her harder.

“Luciaaa,” he moans into the skin of her neck, drawing out her name in a way that has her pussy clenching tightly around him.

Unexpectedly he withdraws, her body shocked for a second by the loss, her mind confused in its aroused state as he gets up and pulls her to her feet, spinning her around on the step and bending her forward. He nudges her feet apart with the toe of his boot, stepping up behind her and rubbing the head of his cock against her dripping slit until she thinks she might go crazy.

“Hold on,” he growls, leaning over her back to grab her arms and force them to the rails on either side as he lines himself up and slams back into her.

Lucia gives a small shriek, her fingers curling around the cold metal of the handrails, feeling Murphy’s hands come up over her own to pin them there as he jerks his hips against her from behind. The stairwell is filled with the ragged sound of their breathing and the loud, wet noises emanating from between them as Murphy fills her over and over again. From his angle behind her, his head is hitting her g-spot with every thrust, teasing the small bundle of nerves until Lucia has to close her eyes tight, rocking her body back in rhythm with his. She feels his fingers tighten over hers, hears the rush of his breath against her shoulder just before he comes and she braces her arms, contracting her muscles around him as he pushes into her for a final time and holds there while he shoots his load into her throbbing pussy. His hands drop from hers, coming around her to hold her tight until he’s done, his length shuddering inside of her as she squeezes and releases around him. Gasping behind her, he straightens a little to place his hands on her hips, moving his hips just enough to keep his head rubbing on the inflamed bundle of nerves inside her.

“C’mon love, come for Murphy,” he rasps, his voice still thick with arousal and Lucia shivers under his words.

“There… there,” she moans and he rocks himself just enough to push her into her own orgasm, cradling her body under him as her legs lose all feeling.

He lowers her gently back down to the floor, coming to rest beside her, his arm still wrapped tightly around her waist as she catches her breath. When she’s regained most of her focus, Lucia turns to him, noting the heavy scent of sex and sweat in the confined space, and looks him up and down.

“Feeling warmer?” she smirks, pulling his sweat-drenched t-shirt from his skin and then letting it go.

“Aye,” he chuckles, moving to tuck himself back into his jeans, “but I’m thinking maybe a bath is in order now.”

“Well, I didn’t like to say anything but you are kinda stinky,” Lucia laughs, pulling herself up from the step and sidestepping as Murphy aims a playful swipe at her ass.

She scoops up her clothes, forgoing getting dressed again in favor of just slipping her coat on to hide her modesty before they go down the stairs and cross the deserted hall to their room. Once safely inside, Lucia slips back out of the heavy coat, shaking it out before hanging it on the back of the door and heading into the bathroom to run the water into the ancient tub. Murphy follows her in, naked now, and perches on the edge of the bath as he silently watches her pinning up her hair in the mirror.

“Do ya ever want more, love?” he asks her and she turns to look at him.

“More?”

“You know… a nice house and a car, maybe a dog. A boyfriend who has an actual job that doesn’t involve burying the bodies when he’s done. More.”

Lucia moves over to him, leaning past him first of all to turn off the taps before straightening up to stand in front of him with her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. She stares at him for a moment, a slight smile pulling at her lips, and then takes his face in her hands, running her thumbs lightly over his features, stroking the lines from his brow. Her hands travel down his body, her fingers delicately tracing the silvery lines of the old and not-so-old wounds that scar his skin before moving back up to lay again on his shoulders.

“Not for a second,” she breathes, lowering her face to his and kissing him softy on the lips.

She can feel him relax beneath her touch and she smiles again, pulling back to look into the bright blue of his eyes for a second before she gently nudges him backwards, laughing as he slips into the tub, the warm water sloshing dangerously close to the top.

“Hey!” he yells, laughing as he reaches out to grab her hand but she dodges away from him.

Searching in the medicine cabinet above the sink, Lucia finds a box of matches and lights the half-burnt candles that are scattered around the small bathroom before flipping off the light and walking across to climb into the tub with Murphy. Settling in between his thighs and resting her back against his chest with a sigh, she lets the warm water caress her body, washing away the last traces of tension from earlier. As Murphy’s hands slide over her skin with the soft swirl of water, she closes her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of the candles and reveling in the closeness of him, happy in the knowledge that she’d rather be here than anywhere else in the world. Turning her head to meet Murphy’s lips in a soft, teasing kiss, she tries to put the thought of Dylan’s reappearance out of her mind but there’s a small nagging part of her that has a feeling she hasn’t seen the last of him.   


	9. Chapter 9

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Blood drips from Murphy’s hand as he hauls off to lay another punch to Dylan’s ravaged face. He can barely see past the red rage burning in his eyes but he feels his fist connect with a satisfying crunch of bone on bone. He’s peripherally aware of Connor standing at his side, watching silently as Murphy rearranges Dylan’s features into something resembling ground hamburger meat. With a final punishing blow, Murphy drops Dylan’s limp form to the blood-spattered rug underneath him and steps away in disgust. Connor steps up, sliding a hand down Murphy’s arm in a gesture of comfort and reassurance that has some of the anger draining from Murphy’s soul. He watches as his brother stands over Dylan’s prone form, straddling his thighs and bending over to grab the front of Dylan’s shirt and lift him up towards him.

“You best listen to me, boy,” Connor growls, his voice laced with barely-controlled anger. “This is your only warning, do ya hear me? You leave Lucia alone – no more calls, no emails and no gifts. She’s with us now and we don’t take kindly to people fuckin’ with our family, understand? You know who we are?”

Dylan gurgles something unintelligible, blood frothing from his ruined lips, but he manages to nod his head in the affirmative.

“Good,” says Connor, “then you know we’re serious and you know we’re not lyin’ to ya.”

With that, he lets Dylan slump back to the floor and walks over to the door, looking back at Murphy as if to reassure himself that his brother isn’t going to do anything stupid on the way out. Murphy steps after him, grimacing as he passes Dylan cowering against the worn leather sofa in his living room. He aims a vicious kick at the downed man’s ankle as he goes, wanting to do so much more but knowing that he can’t. He’d made a promise to Lucia before they’d left and nothing in the world would make him break his word to her no matter how much he wanted to end this guy.

Connor checks the hallway before they exit, not wanting to be seen by any prying eyes that may remember them later. Not that Murphy thinks anyone would talk to the cops in this neighborhood even if Dylan was stupid enough to report what had happened. The brothers stop for a moment outside the rundown building where Dylan is living, each digging into their pockets for smokes, cupping their hands to light them almost simultaneously. Connor watches quietly as Murphy wipes Dylan’s blood from his hands against the front of his black wool coat and then digs in his pocket again for the car keys. He tosses them to Connor, not in the mood to drive, his body still on edge from what just took place. He sinks into the passenger seat, one booted foot up against the dash, dragging deeply on his cigarette as Connor pulls the car out into traffic and points them towards home. The dull pain in Murphy’s knuckles penetrates his mood and he rubs them absently as his mind skims over the events of the past few weeks that led to him and Connor paying Dylan one of their special visits.

Dylan had stayed away at first, after his unsuccessful attempt to talk to Lucia at the bar and Murphy could see the wariness leaving her eyes after a few days, no longer looking over her shoulder each time she left home. Then the calls had started, always from different numbers and at different times of the day so that she’d had no choice but to answer in case it was a business call. At first Dylan had been remorseful, telling her that he was sorry for showing up unannounced and she had accepted his apology but made it quite clear to him that she didn’t want to talk to him anymore. His messages after that soon degenerated into anger, leaving long incoherent rants on her voicemail when she refused to answer him. The calls escalated into a series of emails, each one getting more and more depraved as he went on, filled with threats and graphic depictions of the sex and violence he'd like to bestow on her. Through it all, Lucia had pleaded with Murphy to keep his cool and let it go, telling him that Dylan would soon tire of his childish games if he didn’t get a response.

Murphy had managed to keep his temper in check for almost two weeks even though he was inwardly seething with each new communication. And then the gifts had started arriving. Innocent things at first – flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals – but they had gotten progressively creepier and more worrying as the days went on. A photograph album had come by courier, filled with images from their short-lived marriage but with each picture doctored to replace Lucia’s face with that of the devil. This was soon followed by a collection of knives, each of them stained with what was obviously blood. When the third box had arrived containing a range of expensive underwear, each piece brutally slashed and stained with more blood, Murphy had cracked. He could see the effect all this was having on Lucia, he'd have to be blind not to, as well as the effect it was having on him too. She was on edge all of the time, hardly daring to leave the bar anymore, her eyes ringed with dark circles every morning. It had created a tension between them that he hated, causing heated arguments as she still insisted on downplaying what was going on and he wanted desperately to go deal with it in the way he knew best. He couldn’t understand why she was being so obstinate about it and that just frustrated him even more.

When he had seen her face pale at the contents of the latest package, he decided that he was done with sitting on his ass and doing nothing while this piece of shit tormented the woman he loved. He already knew where Dylan was living, he and Connor had called in some favors to track him down, and he was ready to pay the scumsucker a visit. This time Lucia hadn’t protested when he had told her where he was going, the haunted look in her eyes clearing a little at his words. She had, however, held him deathly tight before he'd left and made him promise her that he wouldn’t kill Dylan. He had begrudgingly agreed, kissing her forehead lightly as they’d left, knowing it was going to take all of his willpower not to break that promise.

He and Connor had arrived at Dylan’s place to find him slumped on the sofa in front of the tv, a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. When they had kicked open the door and barged in, he had tried to run but barely made it two steps before Murphy had brought him down in a flying tackle. He had fought back at first until he had seen the glint of their weapons holstered under their jackets and then he had turned into a simpering mess. Just as Lucia had stated, he was all bark and no bite when it came down to it, cowering away from Murphy despite his superior size and pleading with them not to hurt him. It was Connor who had found the pile of photos of Lucia next to Dylan’s bed, lifting them up for Murphy to see and that was when his rage had descended on him in full force. His gut had twisted at the thought of this sick fuck looking at Lucia while he did God knows what and he had backhanded the man in front of him so hard that his blood had painted the opposite wall in a crimson spray.

As they pull up to the back of the bar and Connor shuts off the engine, Murphy hopes that the message they delivered will be enough to stop Dylan pursuing his craziness any further.

“Are we good, brother?” Connor asks him, his eyes searching Murphy’s face in the dim light of the car’s interior.

“Aye, we are,” Murphy answers, opening his door and climbing out.

He gives himself a mental shake before entering the darkened building, leaving what they’d done behind him before going inside to find Lucia. She’s waiting for them in the pool room, sitting curled up in one of the armchairs with a book open on her lap but Murphy knows she won’t have read a single word. She jumps up as they enter, closing the gap between them in an instant, her eyes darting from one to the other as she assesses them for injuries just like she would on any other occasion.

“It’s done,” Connor tells her but her eyes never leave Murphy’s face.

“Is he…”

“He’s alive,” Murphy tells her and he can see her visible relief at his words. “Although, by morning, he’ll probably wish he wasn’t.”

“Are you hurt?” she asks and he sees her eyes slide down to the bruised skin of his knuckles.

“Nothin’ a shot of whiskey and an ice-pack won’t cure,” he answers, giving her his usual reply before slipping out of his coat and hanging it by the door.

He removes his gun and holster, handing them to Connor to put away, watching Lucia’s eyes track their movement for a second before she walks across the room and comes back with a bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses. She pours each of them a shot, raising her glass in a silent salute to the brothers, and the three of them drink in unison. Murphy relaxes a little as the liquor’s slow burn warms his throat, holding out his glass for a refill which Lucia dutifully pours. He throws this one back as fast as the first, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and then grinning at Lucia. She smiles back at him and he can see some of the tension leaving her body as she pours Connor a second shot and then re-caps the bottle. Murphy takes it from her hand, setting it down on the table alongside his own glass and then stepping into her personal space to slide his hands around her waist and pull her to him, bumping his hips against hers. He ducks his head to give her an eager kiss, sucking the taste of whiskey from her lips and sliding his hands down to cup the swell of her ass. He squeezes tightly, feeling her exhale into his mouth and he can feel the burgeoning press of his cock against the front of his jeans. He wants nothing more than to take her, right there and then, to worship every inch of her body until he owns her completely the way she owns him. A not-too-subtle cough from beside him has him reluctantly pulling his lips from hers although he keeps a firm grip on her body, grinding slightly against her as he turns to look in Connor’s direction.

“I’d tell you two to get a room but I think it’s way too late for that,” Connor smirks, reaching past them to snag the whiskey bottle from the table. “So, I’m just going to take this, wish you a good night and see if I can’t find a warm hole of my own to crawl into.”

“Connor!” exclaims Lucia but Murphy just rolls his eyes at his brother’s retreating back.

“Oh, and if you’re gonna do it on the pool table again, can ya at least throw down a blanket or something? Those stains are a bitch to get out of the felt.”

Chuckling to himself, he exits the room closing the door behind him with a resounding bang and Murphy looks back to Lucia whose fingers are tracing light circles over his biceps.

“Bed?” he whispers, pushing aside her hair to run his lips along the side of her neck.

“In a minute,” she replies a little breathlessly, tilting her head to the side to allow him better access which he eagerly accepts, sucking at the soft skin at the base of her throat.

Lucia’s hands slide from his arms to bury in his hair as he nips and licks at her collarbone, her fingers tugging at his roots. She arches her body into his touch, her hips banging against his once more and he knows that she’s as ready as he is for this. He’s amazed how quickly he’s learned to read her body, to figure out her likes and dislikes, where to kiss her or touch her for maximum effect and which spots to avoid at all costs. He loves the fact that he’s still learning, that she can still surprise him just when he thinks he’s gotten her all figured out. What he likes even more is that she knows him too, although he considers himself far less complex a sexual creature than her, she’s helped him discover things he would never have even considered a turn on let alone have tried with anyone else. He backs her up a little, wanting to feel every inch of her body with his, bumping her into the pool table and then grabbing her waist to boost her up onto its edge. Her legs automatically wrap around his hips as he pushes between her thighs, laying hard kisses down her neck as he tips her onto her back and covers her body with his. Pushing her t-shirt up, he growls in frustration when he finds a tank top underneath tucked into her jeans and he pulls it roughly up so that he can gain access to her skin.

“I miss summer,” he mutters between laying hot kisses to her ribs.

“Hmm?” Lucia asks, gasping a little and arching under him as his mouth finds its way to her breast, his teeth grazing her nipple through the smooth fabric of her bra.

“Summer,” he repeats, lifting his head to smile at her. “When you wore all those sexy dresses and I’d spend whole afternoons just watching your legs as you walked by. Damn, love, if we’d been fucking back then, I’d’ve been out of control. I would never have been able to keep my hands offa you, just looking for any chance to take advantage of the easy access of those dresses. Just slide my hands up under them while we were up on the roof, get my fingers in that gorgeous pussy of yours and get you off where nobody could see. Have you straddle my lap on the sofa and keep everything hidden under your skirt while I fucked you long and slow.”

All the time he’s talking, Murphy’s hands are making slow strokes against Lucia’s skin, teasing his way into the waist of her jeans and caressing her mound, feeling her skin growing hotter under his touch.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Murph,” Lucia moans pushing her hips up under him as his middle finger slips down against her clit and gives it a soft stroke. “Are you trying to kill me, telling me that?”

“Maybe a little,” he chuckles, sliding his finger further down into her wetness and dragging it back up to slick her clit.

She clings to him as he adds a second finger and then a third, alternating his motion between fingering her deeply and teasing her clit. He presses his mouth to her throat, kissing and sucking at her pulse point until she’s squirming under him and then a thought occurs to him and he stops. Withdrawing his hand from her jeans, he pushes back from her, smirking at the confused look on her face.

“What?” she asks in confusion, her breath hitching in a throat a little and making his already straining cock twitch a little in response.

“C’mon,” he says, wriggling out of the grip her thighs have around his waist and pulling her up from the table. “I have something for you in the bedroom.”

“I thought you had something for me right here,” she grumbles but hops down off the table to follow him to their room.

Inside, Murphy flips off the main light leaving just the bedside lamps to illuminate the room and then turns to take Lucia back into his arms, stroking her hair away from her face to cover it in kisses. When his lips meet hers and he can feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his as he pushes his tongue softly against hers, he gives a sigh of contentment that even surprises him. She deepens their kiss, her deft fingers finding their way to the aching bulge in his jeans and he groans as she begins palming him through the worn material. Tugging at her clothing, he manages to get her undressed with the minimum amount of interruption to their kiss and then removes his own clothes the same way, both of them giggling as they try to keep their lips locked together. Finally naked, Murphy steers Lucia onto the bed, climbing on next to her to continue kissing her, thinking that if he could only do one thing for the rest of his life, this would be what he would choose. Her hand wraps around his length, stroking and squeezing, her thumb teasing his slit until he shivers and pulls away from her.

“I have a gift for you,” he tells her, running his index finger down between her breasts.

“I think I already found it,” she replies, smiling up at him as she reaches out and gives his cock another firm squeeze.

“Uhh,” he moans, letting her fingers rub delicately over the veins ridging his shaft for a moment before he pushes away from her again.

She pouts up at him for a second and he laughs, bending forward to kiss her lower lip before he slips off of the bed and kneels to retrieve the plastic bag he has hidden underneath. He sees the curiosity in her eyes as she sits up and he hands it to her, clambering back to sit cross-legged in front of her while she opens it, chewing a little on his top lip as he waits for her reaction.

A few weeks before, bored one afternoon and going stir crazy from being stuck inside because of the snow, they had driven out to one of the malls on the outskirts of the city, Lucia declaring that she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions if she spent one more minute cooped up with him and Connor. The three of them had wandered the stores, gorging on junk food and wasting money on things that they didn’t really need, Connor attempting to hit on every sales assistant he could find and Murphy proudly holding Lucia’s hand as they moved among the light crowds. Connor had dragged them into Spencer’s wanting to look at the t-shirts and somehow, Murphy and Lucia had found themselves at the back of the store in the adult section.

Giggling like horny teenagers they had browsed the selection, each making increasingly more lewd comments whispered into each other’s ears until Murphy was painfully aware of the growing erection pushing at the front of his jeans. Lucia had been more than aware of the effect her teasing was having on him, pressing her body against his with a mischievous glint in her eye the whole time. Finally, unable to stand it a minute longer, he had told her exactly what she was doing to him and she had grabbed him by the wrist, towing him out of the store and yelling at Connor to meet them at the car in half an hour. She’d then proceeded to drag him out to the parking garage where she had pushed him into the passenger seat and given him an exuberant blow job, telling him she didn’t give a fuck about the security cameras or the possibility of people passing by. He had cursed her name under his breath a thousand times before he came, trying not to scream it at the top of his lungs and, when she was done, she had sat up, grinning from ear to ear and licking her lips like a cat that gotten the cream. Murphy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that day, getting hard practically every time the thought popped into his mind as he recalled the whispered conversations they’d had regarding the sex toys on display.

As Lucia opens the bag in front of him and brings out the garishly-printed box inside, he hopes for a moment that this isn’t a stupid idea, one that’s going to conjure up bad memories for her. He relaxes instantly as she turns the box over in her hands, laughing softly and glancing up at him with a questioning look.

“I thought maybe you could… we could,” he starts, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment prickle across his skin and rushing out the last of his thought before he can chicken out. “I thought maybe you could use it, show me what you like so…”

She saves him from elaborating any further by raising herself up and leaning forward to kiss him hard on the mouth, her tongue teasing his lips for a moment before she sits back down and undoes the box in her hand. Shaking the slim vibrator from its plastic prison, she hefts its weight against her palm before wrapping her fingers around it.

“So, you want to know what I like, huh?” she asks him and all Murphy can do is swallow thickly and nod as she presses the button on the vibrator’s handle and the room is filled with a soft buzzing.

She gasps a little as it shakes in her hand and Murphy tries desperately to wet his suddenly dry mouth as she parts her thighs, shuffling closer to him so that he can clearly see the shining pinkness of her pussy, her folds slick with wetness. Slowly she drags the vibrator’s humming tip along her skin leaving a wake of gooseflesh behind it, teasing it down across her stomach until the head is poised on her mound and Murphy can hear her breath coming more harshly. She parts her lips with the fingers of her free hand, exposing the dark pink of her swollen clit and Murphy can feel the ache in his balls increasing, his cock laying painfully rigid against his belly, as she moves the tip down. Just before she presses it against herself, however, she suddenly pulls it away, turning it off and tossing it to the bed beside her causing Murphy to give a confused grunt.

“What I like,” she says, taking his hand in hers and sliding his fingertips against her sticky clit, guiding him gently in a circular motion, “is this, nothing more, nothing less. Accept no substitutions.”

Smiling, she lays back, releasing his hand to carry on and he obliges her happily, his heart swelling with pride at her words. He runs his other hand up over the soft skin of her stomach and cups her breast with his palm, brushing across her nipple with his thumb.

“No pressure then, love,” Murphy breathes, sliding his fingers into her to coax at the tiny bundle of nerves he knows is hiding just inside and being rewarded with her hips bucking off of the bed.

“Haven’t had a complaint yet,” she gasps, clutching at the comforter with a low moan as he teases her mercilessly.

Lucia closes her eyes, arching her back up into his touch, and Murphy bends down to run his tongue against her clit before sucking it hard. She shrieks, her body going rigid under him for a moment and then Murphy can feel her pussy tighten around his fingers as she comes with a sudden rush of fluids that coats his skin. He licks harder while she pants above him, her fist thumping feebly against the bed until he knows she’s done and he slips his fingers from her and kisses his way slowly back up her torso. By the time he reaches her mouth, her body has evened out a little, her breath falling back into its normal rhythm and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her green eyes shine up at him, her pupils wide, and she pulls his head down to mash her lips to his in a wild kiss. With a giddy laugh she rolls him onto his back, climbing up to straddle him, wiggling herself into a position just above his aching cock. She slides against his length for a minute, up and down, coating his shaft with her juices and he pushes up against her.

“You know, these aren’t just for women,” she says, a devilish glint in her eye as she reaches for the discarded vibrator, switching it back on, and Murphy feels his brain go into overload as she lowers the buzzing toy towards him.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Murphy is barely awake, his face buried under the comforter, his body aching deliciously from the night before and a half smile on his lips. He’s vaguely aware that Lucia is gone from his side, her scent and her taste still strong on his skin and he knows that she’s bound to be downstairs making coffee to start her day. He rolls onto his back, mentally thanking Connor for the hundredth time for buying them this bed as the mattress molds itself to his new position and he lets out a satisfied sigh. Yawning widely, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, debating between getting up and going to find Lucia or waiting for her to come back and maybe see if she wants to pick up where they left off the night before. The decision is made for him by the bedroom door slamming open as Lucia races through it, a look of wild panic on her face that has him leaping from the bed in a second, all trace of sleep knocked out by a jolt of adrenalin to his system.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, grabbing her arms to stop her forward motion.

“Downstairs,” she tells him frantically, her eyes darting back to the door. “There’s a cop, a detective, says he’s looking for you and Connor and he knows that you’re hiding here. He sent me to get you, told me to tell you the place is surrounded. Murphy, you have to go! Take the roof, run. Connor’s not back, you have to find him.”

Murphy’s mind is wheeling, trying to take in what she’s telling him and he can feel her shaking under his hands as she pushes him to move.

“Fuck,” he curses, reaching for his clothes. “What the fuck? How the fuckin’ hell did they know we’re here?”

“Crack police work, Mr. MacManus,” says a new voice from the doorway and Lucia gives a little shriek.

Murphy’s head whips in the direction of the newcomer and he feels relief washing out over his limbs as he recognizes the man standing just inside their bedroom. He steps around Lucia who has taken up a defensive position between him and the stranger, briefly touching her arm as he passes to let her know that everything’s fine, and then throws his arms around the other man in an enthusiastic bear-hug.

“Ya fuckin’ little prick, Green Beans, ya nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack,” Murphy yells in his friend’s ear, slapping him hard on the back.

“Thought you might need a little wake-up call,” Greenly chuckles, extricating himself from Murphy’s grip and holding him at arm’s length.

“Jerk-off,” Murphy mutters, punching Greenly’s bicep.

“So, do you have a license for that thing or are ya just happy to see me?” Greenly asks, indicating Murphy’s state of undress.

“You wish this was for you,” Murphy snorts derisively, pulling on the jeans he still has clenched in one fist. 

“Fag,” jibes Greenly.

“Pussy,” counters Murphy, giving his shoulder another mighty slap and then turning to look at Lucia, her face now a picture of confused amusement. “Lucia, I want you to meet one of Boston’s finest, Detective Green Beans, and if you believe that, then this city is in some serious shit.”

Greenly elbows Murphy in the ribs as he reaches out to shake Lucia’s hand, keeping it clasped in his own for far longer than is appropriate.

“Detective Greenly, at your service, ma’am. Please don’t tell me you’re mixed up with this asshole.”

“Lucia is my fiancée,” Murphy says, taking her hand from his friends and tucking it in his own, feeling a sudden surge of pride at being able to say those words.

“Fiancée? What the actual fuck? We don’t see you for a few months and this is the shit you pull?” Greenly asks incredulously.

“So, what the fuck are you doin’ here, scaring the crap outta people at this ungodly hour?” Murphy asks, looking around for the t-shirt he was wearing the night before and then realizing that Lucia is wearing it.

“We need to talk,” Greenly informs him, suddenly serious. “Where’s Connor?”

“Out at one of his tart’s places,” Murphy answers with a shrug. “Why don’t ya go down to the bar and get yourself a coffee and I’ll see if I can call him.”

Greenly nods, heading out of the room and Murphy turns to Lucia who is standing there nervously biting her lip, her arms folded across her chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tells her, pulling her to him and tucking her against his chest. “Don’t look so worried.”

“He scared the freakin’ shit out of me, Murph, and now he says you guys need to talk, what the hell is going on?”

“It’s probably nothing, love, Greenly always was a drama queen. Let’s call Con and we’ll see what it’s all about, huh?”

“Okay,” Lucia sighs, stepping away from him and scooping her jeans up from the nearby chair.

As he watches her pull them on, Murphy feels a pang for the unexpected loss of what he had hoped would be a memorable morning with her and then gives his own sigh as he quickly pulls a clean shirt from the drawer.

Less than an hour later, all three men are lined up at the empty bar, Connor sporting a hickey on his neck the size of a plum and a hangover so severe he refuses to take off his dark glasses. He rests his forehead against the worn surface of the bar as Lucia slides a mug of black coffee across it to him along with a small bottle of Advil, prodding him until he sits up and takes some.

“So, what the fuck is going on?” he asks, his voice gravelly, before he tips some of the pills into his palm and tosses them in his mouth, washing them down with the scalding coffee.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up after you two pricks?” Greenly asks from his position between them, swiveling his head from one to the other. “The infamous Saints, just doin’ their thing, happy as Larry, not thinking for one fuckin’ minute that me an’ the boys have to go behind you and divert attention from your shenanigans every goddamn time you leave a roomful of bodies in your wake. Your file is getting thicker than my cock and that’s pretty damn thick. But we keep the heat offa you, keep the wheels greased so as the powers that be turn a blind eye to what you’re doing and then you go and pull some shit like this.”

He reaches into his jacket and pulls a small manila envelope from an inside pocket, tossing it at Murphy who grabs it and quickly opens it, pulling out a thin stack of photos from inside. His stomach clenches as he stares at the face of his latest piece of work, Dylan, the man’s face staring back at him in a Technicolor riot of blood and bruising, his features swollen almost beyond recognition. Murphy slides the pictures past Greenly and over to Connor, seeing Lucia raise a hand to her mouth as she catches sight of the subject matter.

“This guy walks into the station last night,” Greenly continues, stirring more sugar into his coffee, “and tells the desk sergeant in front of a packed booking room that he has information on where the Boondock Saints are hiding and he wants to report an assault.”

“Motherfuckin’ sonovabitch,” Connor groans, thumping his clenched fist on the bar.

“Lucky for you boys, the desk sergeant is a big fan of yours and knows to contact us if anything goes down on his watch related to you guys. Dolly and me went down and hauled this guy into interrogation before he could even take a breath. He tells us that you two assholes broke into his apartment for no good reason and beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of him. He said he thought it was because he’d seen you here earlier and you knew he’d recognized you so you wanted to make sure he kept quiet.

Now Dolly and me are looking at each other, bullshit detectors goin’ off like a siren, and we know there has to be more to it than that. Never seen you two go outta control on somebody who didn’t deserve it. So, we take the guy’s statement and tell him we’ll look into it, yadda, yadda and we send him on his way. But he was pissed, lads, way more than just getting the tar beat out of him should’ve made him, we could tell there was something else going on so I thought I better haul my ass down here this morning and see if you wanted to share.”

There’s silence for a moment as Murphy stares at Lucia, hating the way her fingers are gripping the edge of the bar where she’s standing and then she nods at him.

“The prick is Lucia’s ex-husband,” Murphy states, his disgust at that term dripping from his words. “He’s been out of town for years, now he’s back and he’s been harassing her. We thought a little visit from us would put an end to the situation but it seems as if he wants to be a wise-ass.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Nah,” Connor throws in, “he’s nothin’ but piss and wind. Probably thinks he’s being clever by goin’ to the cops because he can’t get what he wants.”

“You want we should pull him in on the harassment, let him know that shit don’t fly in our precinct?”

“No,” Lucia says sharply. “It’ll only make him worse. Let him think he got one over on us and hopefully he’ll let it lie now.”

Greenly looks from Connor to Murphy again and, with a deep sigh, Murphy nods his agreement.

“Well, alright then, lads, if you’re sure,” Greenly tells them, climbing down from his barstool and shrugging on his jacket. “But you let us know if you need us to pick him up, okay?”

“Will do, Green Beans,” Connor answers, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he escorts him to the door. “Say hello to those other two pricks for us, will ya? Tell Duffy he still owes me twenty bucks for that bet he made me.”

“You got it. Lucia it was a pleasure meeting you,” he calls back across the bar. “Don’t let these two good for nothings give you any shit, ya hear.”

“I won’t,” she calls, giving him a quick wave and Murphy can hear Connor talking in lowered tones at the doorway before he locks the door behind Greenly and comes back in.

“It is too fuckin’ early for this shit,” Connor grumbles, clambering back on his seat with a sigh. “Lucia, my beautiful angel, could ya pour me another coffee before I have to go out again.”

“Out?” she asks, pouring him another mug of the steaming black brew. “You look like you should be going to bed.”

“I wish, lass, I wish but I told Mickey that me an’ Murph would help him move house today. We have to get going in a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Murphy states, giving Connor a hard stare. “I don’t want to leave Lucia on her own.”

“Nonsense, I’m fine,” she says, reaching across the bar to place her hands over his. “You go, help Mickey out, I have work to do anyway.”

“I don’t like it, what if Dylan comes sniffing around?”

“What’s he going to do, huh, kidnap me in broad daylight? Look, I’ll go get my stuff and I’ll work down here if that makes you feel better. Doc will be back from the wholesalers in a minute and the bar’s opening soon. I’ll have plenty of people to watch out for me on the off chance psycho-boy puts in an appearance, which I highly doubt.”

Murphy stares at her a little longer, torn between his inherent need to protect her and his desire not to make her feel like he owns her, that what she wants and her opinions don’t matter if he doesn’t agree with them. Frustrated, he pushes away from the bar, slipping off his stool to stand beside Connor.

“C’mon then, sooner we go, sooner we can get back,” he says, throwing a last look at Lucia before they leave the bar, a bad feeling creeping over him at the thought of leaving her by herself.


	10. Chapter 10

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Lucia looks out over the darkened rooftops, blowing a lungful of smoke to the sky as she lets the cool night air caress her bare arms. She’s escaped from the noise and heat of the packed bar for a moment, the normally busy Friday night having been revved up a notch by a bachelor party for one of the regulars. Slipping up to the roof to cool off, enjoying the fact that the weather has finally turned a corner from the seemingly endless snow of the past few months, Lucia takes a moment to center herself and gather her thoughts before going back inside. She breathes deeply, feeling the sharp burn of the crisp air in her lungs, and then stubs out her cigarette on the wall before dropping the butt into the overflowing bucket at her feet. She glances longingly at the tarp-covered bulk of the sofa, wrapped up to protect it from the harshness of winter, eager for the days when she can spend her time up here again. As she goes back inside, visions of summer days fill her head – curled up on the sofa in the sun, drawing or reading with Murphy beside her, his head in her lap – and she finds it hard to believe that it’s already been over a month since all the drama with Dylan.

After his visit to the cops to rat out the brothers, he had suddenly disappeared. To her honest surprise, Lucia hadn’t received any more messages from him and, when Connor had done a quick recon of his place, he’d found a new tenant living there with no idea where Dylan had gone. After a couple of weeks of blissful silence, Lucia had finally allowed herself to believe that he’d left town, probably humiliated by the beating he took and not wanting to run the risk of another one. She had let herself relax, happy that it hadn’t escalated any further, and things had gotten back to as close to normal as her life could be given the men she lived with.

The pair of them had suddenly found themselves at the center of a new gang war which had erupted suddenly after a suspiciously quite lull in the city’s criminal activity. At first they had been content to let the opposing parties fight it out amongst themselves but, when a young mother and her toddler had ended up in the hospital simply for crossing the wrong street at the wrong time, the brothers had decided it was time to step in. So, Lucia had spent three excruciating nights alone, obsessively listening to the local news station on the radio, while they took to the streets to finish the war once and for all. By some miracle, they had come home to her pretty much unscathed apart from a plethora of scrapes and bruises which were always par for the course and the news was soon full of reports of the mass demise of the gangs which had been terrorizing the city. Naturally equal amounts of gratitude and blame were laid at the feet of the notorious Boondock Saints and once again the debate raged on as to whether they were an asset or a menace to the good city of Boston.

Closing the door to the stairwell behind her, Lucia offers up a quick prayer to whoever watches over them, feeling a sudden need to hold Murphy close and tell him how much she loves him. She’s about to go back down to the bar when she hears familiar voices coming from the pool room so she changes direction and walks that way instead, thinking maybe she’ll suggest ending the evening snuggled up in bed together, watching a movie like a normal couple. The smile forming on her lips fades as she catches the conversation taking place inside the room and she hesitates in the hallway to listen.

“Ah, you’re just pussy-whipped,” comes Connor’s scornful tone.

“And you’re drunk as fuck,” she hears Murphy reply.

“Yes I am, but I’m not the one who’s leavin’ his brother hanging here like an ungrateful piece of shit.”

“I’m ungrateful?” Murphy yells. “How the fuck am I ungrateful, you dumb Mick? Because I won’t cheat on my fiancée with some slut you just met whose friend won’t fuck you unless you find her a date too? Yeah, I’m real ungrateful.”

“Pfft, fiancée. You ain’t never marrying that girl and you know it. What the fuck are you going to offer her, huh? All of this? You’re both deluding yourselves and you know it. You need to face fuckin’ reality, baby brother.”

“And what reality is that? Spending every night with you in this miserable shithole, getting drunk and sleepin’ with every whore that gives you the eye?”

“Fuck yeah. You used to be fun, Murph, always up for a good time. And now this,” Connor says with a sneer in his voice and Lucia can just imagine the disgusted face he’ll be pulling, “it’s fuckin’ pathetic man. You’re so far up Lucia’s arse that I don’t even remember what you look like anymore.”

“Connor,” Murphy warns and Lucia feels goosebumps break out on her arms at his tone.

“Fine. Fuck it,” Connor yells after a brief pause. “You stay here and play happy fuckin’ families. All the more pussy for me.”

“Yeah, well make sure ya fuckin’ double bag it, ya shithead,” Murphy yells as the door bangs back and Connor storms out.

Lucia steps back against the wall as he lurches in her direction, his eyes briefly meeting hers and then sliding away as he raises a hand in warning for her to keep quiet and then disappears down the stairs. She sags against the wall for a moment, thinking about what she just heard, and then enters the pool room, finding Murphy slouched against the table, arms folded, and she can see his anger thrumming in every line of his body.

“What the hell was all that about?” she asks, crossing the room to lay a hand on his arm.

“You mean my brother being a drunken asshole?” Murphy answers through gritted teeth and then his expression softens as he looks down at her. “Aw, love, you shouldn’t have heard that. You know he can be a prick sometimes when he’s had a few too many.”

Murphy opens his arms to her, pulling her in against his chest and wrapping them tightly around her. Lucia snuggles in against him for a moment, wanting to let it go but knowing there’s a question which will haunt her if she doesn’t ask it.

“Have I changed your life?” she mumbles against his chest, not really sure that she wants his answer.

“Of course you have,” he replies, squeezing her tighter.

“No, I mean in a bad way,” she asks, extricating herself from his arms and stepping back to look at him. “Have I stopped you spending time with Connor, doing whatever it is you two used to do before I invaded your lives?”

“Lucia, no, sto-”

“Because I never wanted that to happen. Oh my God,” she exclaims, stepping away from him, “I have. That’s exactly what I’ve done. I was so wrapped up in how I felt about you that I never saw what it was doing to your relationship with him. Fuck, I am so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Lucia,” Murphy tells her, trying to halt her frantic pacing but she shakes off his hands. “I wouldn’t change what we have for a second. This is what I want and it has nothing to do with Connor.”

“But you heard what he just said,” she says, stopping to look him in the eye, “we’re never going to be married, we’re just deluding ourselves that we have any future together.”

“You don’t believe that?” Murphy asks, eyeing her warily.

“I didn’t but maybe he’s right. What the hell are we doing here? Maybe you would be better off with any one of those girls down there, just fuck ‘em and move on, no strings attached. Maybe I am just tying you down, Connor was right.”

“Connor’s fuckin’ drunk off his arse,” Murphy spits, raising his voice angrily. “You should know better than to listen to him, lass. You know he loves you – I love you – and he’s just being a prick because he can.”

“No, he resents me,” she yells back, shaking her head and backing away from him. “He hates that I’ve come between you and I hate that too. I never planned it this way, I never thought we would be this serious. You and Connor are so close, it’s always just been the two of you watching out for each other and I have no right to come between that. I don’t want to.”

“That’s just crazy,” Murphy shouts, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “You’re seriously going to listen to what that prick has to say?”

Lucia doesn’t answer him, her mind in turmoil and he stares hard at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he waits for her to speak.

“You know what, then? Fuck it. I’m outta here. Everybody’s lost their fuckin’ minds tonight and I’m done with this shit.”

He wheels angrily around, snatching his coat from the hook by the door and, before Lucia can utter another word, he’s gone, leaving her wondering what the fuck just happened as she sinks into one of the armchairs.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Lucia wonders where she is for a moment when she wakes, shivering a little and wincing as she moves her head. Rolling her neck, she realizes she must have fallen asleep in the pool room and, with a sick lurch of her stomach, she remembers the fight she had with Murphy. Standing up, she stretches her back out before heading down the hall to their room, feeling incredibly stupid for what she’d said earlier and wanting to make it up to Murphy if he’ll let her. However, she finds their bed empty even though a glance at the bedside clock tells her it’s almost 4am, and she sighs despondently before stripping her clothes off and pulling on one of his old t-shirts. She checks her phone just in case he’s messaged her - she’s finally convinced both him and Connor to carry cell phones for her own peace of mind - but her inbox is empty so she crawls under the comforter and pulls it tightly around herself. She debates calling him for a few minutes but ultimately decides it’s better to let him cool off by himself and just talk to him when he gets home. She drops back into a fitful sleep, very aware of the empty space in the bed beside her.

The sound of a door banging somewhere below shakes Lucia from an unfulfilling slumber and she reaches groggily for her phone when she realizes that Murphy’s side of the bed is still empty. She’s shocked to find that she’s slept almost until noon and her heart sinks to see that there’s still been no word from Murphy. Dragging herself to the bathroom, she quickly showers and gets dressed, hoping that maybe he’ll be downstairs in the bar by the time she gets there. Pushing open the door from upstairs, her eyes flick automatically to his usual seat only to find it empty but Connor is perched on the next one, flicking idly through the morning paper as he regales Doc with a rundown of his previous night’s conquest.

“You look like you need a coffee, lass,” Doc says as she takes the seat next to Connor and she nods gratefully at him.

There’s a moment of awkward silence while Doc pours her a cup and then busies himself at the far end of the bar, giving her and Connor some privacy to talk.

“How much did you hear?” he asks softly, keeping his focus on the newspaper spread in front of him but Lucia’s not fooled for a second, she can see the tenseness in the line of his jaw.

“Pretty much all of it,” she replies, blowing across the surface of her coffee and inhaling its rich aroma. “Sounds like you and the Barbie twins had a good time last night. They seem like such nice, wholesome girls.”

“That’s not what I meant, Lucia,” Connor sighs and turns his head to meet her eye.

“I know,” she answers, sipping on her coffee and letting it revive her a little.

“And you know I can be a colossal prick sometimes, right?”

“I also know that, yes.”

“Then you know I didn’t mean what I said last night. I was just busting Murph’s chops because it was easy and I was pissed off. You know I love you and I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to the worthless little shit even if he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” she tells him, allowing a small smile to cross her lips.

“Then we’re okay?”

“We’re okay.”

Connor grins at her and leans over to wrap an arm around her neck, pulling her to him to kiss her forehead.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispers before letting her go again.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe you should try telling that to your brother when he gets home.”

“He’s not here?”

“No,” Lucia sighs, “we had a stupid fight after you left and he pulled his usual disappearing act. I figured he'd come crawling home in the early hours but I guess he's still stewing someplace.”

“Then let’s get him home,” Connor says, fishing in his coat pocket for his phone and dialing Murphy’s number. “Hey ya little shit, it’s me. Get your sorry ass home right now and apologize to yer woman, do ya hear me?”

“Connor!” shouts Lucia, making a grab for the phone but he's already disconnected it. “I didn’t say the fight was his fault, now he's going to think I was blaming him. What did he say?”

“Nothin’, went to voicemail. Stupid arse probably forgot to charge it again.”

“Great,” replies Lucia, knowing Connor’s words are probably going to get Murphy’s back up even more before he gets home.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

She sits with Connor for a while, drinking her coffee, then excuses herself and goes back upstairs. She tries and fails to call Murphy herself, leaving him a voicemail of her own, and then settles herself at the computer to do some work while she waits for him to come home. The afternoon quickly passes and there’s still no word from Murphy. Lucia is starting to get a nervous finger of anxiety tracing along her spine, scenarios running through her head to explain his absence and his silence, none of which end well. Connor sticks his head in the room from time to time, each of them looking expectantly at each other before shaking their heads, and she can see her anxiety mirrored in his face as the afternoon rolls into late evening and they’ve still heard nothing. They’re both well-acquainted with Murphy’s hot-headedness and his stubborn streak but they both also know that he wouldn’t cause them to worry unnecessarily about him.

Around 10pm Connor heads out. Having made calls to a few people Murphy might have crashed with the previous night and coming up empty, he decides to go check a couple of other possibilities out. Lucia wants to go with him but he insists on her staying put in case Murphy comes home with a dead phone so that she’ll be able to call him and let him know. She knows it’s just an excuse, that he doesn’t feel safe taking her to some of the places he’s going but she doesn’t push it, she just stays in the bar helping Doc to close up. When her phone finally rings around 1am and she sees Murphy’s number on the display, she feels a weakness in her limbs that has her collapsing onto the nearest seat and it takes her a minute after her initial ‘hello’ to realize that it isn’t his voice on the other end of the line. It’s Dylan’s.

“You always did think you were smarter than me, Lucia, didn’t you? Poor old Dylan, he's just another dumb jock that has no idea what’s going on.”

“Dylan, I never thou-”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch,” Dylan screams into the phone, “especially not now when you have so much at stake.”

Lucia’s blood curdles in her veins as she hears a wet, sickening sound through the phone that she can’t identify but there’s no mistaking the anguished moan that follows it. She’s as familiar with every noise Murphy makes as she would be with the tracks on a favorite album played over and over until the lyrics are engraved on her brain. Frantically she signals to Doc at the other end of the bar and he hurries over as she hastily scribbles a note to him on the back of a beermat, telling him to call Connor. As he disappears into the back to use the phone in his room, she tries to focus her concentration on what Dylan is saying and quell the rising panic that’s threatening to engulf her if she’ll let it.

“What do you want, Dylan?” she asks, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

“What do I want?” he replies slowly, as though he’s pondering he question. “What I’ve always wanted, baby – to make you happy. For you and me to be together the way we were meant to be. You’re my wife, Lucia, I think it’s time you started acting like it, don’t you? But first we have to deal with this piece of shit here who seems to think he can muscle in on my woman.”

Lucia winces as she hears another of those wet sounds emanating from the phone she has pressed painfully tight against her ear. Doc reappears in the doorway, giving her the thumbs up and signaling that Connor is only five minutes away. He stands silently across the bar from her, wringing his hands together with a look of worry etched on his usually jolly face.

“What are you going to do with him?” she asks, her voice betraying none of the fear she’s feeling but huge tears are rolling unbidden down her face.

“Do? What I’m going to do, Lucia, is teach him that I am not a man he wants to mess with. Him and his cock-sucking brother may have gotten the drop on me once but this time I’m calling the shots and this fucking prick is going to learn that he can’t touch what’s mine and think he’s going to get away with it.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Lucia whispers, nausea rolling in her stomach. “I’ll do anything you want, Dylan, anything, just don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Oh I know you will, sweetheart,” Dylan replies coldly and Lucia can easily imagine the horrors he’d like to bestow on her.

“Why don’t we meet somewhere and we can talk about it then?” Lucia asks, trying to sound amenable while she’s frantically wondering where Connor is.

“Talk?” Dylan yells and Lucia knows for certain at that point that he’s lost his mind completely, she can hear it in his tone. “Oh we’re gonna do more than talk, trust me. I want you and this piece of shit’s brother to come to me and the four of us are going to have one hell of a fucking conversation.”

She’s about to ask him where he is when the door to the bar flies open behind her and Connor barrels in, making her jump a little and then sag in relief. He runs to her side bringing with him a rush of cold air that brushes over the flushed heat of her skin and she leans into him as he takes one look at her face and places a comforting hand at the small of her back.

“Dylan has Murphy,” she whispers, covering the phone with her hand and Connor’s face darkens as he takes it from her.

“You’re going to die,” he breathes into the phone and Lucia can’t hear Dylan’s response but she can see the tightening of Connor’s jaw as he listens intently for a moment before slamming the phone down on the bar top.

Wordlessly, he takes Lucia’s hand, helping her down from the bar stool and then leading her to the door with a brief nod to Doc as they go. In the car, he’s as silent as death and all Lucia can hear is the sound of her heart thudding painfully against her breastbone. She doesn’t ask where they’re going, she doesn’t care, but she's grateful that the ride is a short one as Connor pulls up to the back of a building down near the river. Getting out of the car, Lucia shivers hard in the cold air blowing off the water as she steps back to the trunk where Connor is fighting to get the dented lid to open, cursing hard until the key finally turns. He looks thoughtfully at Lucia for a second as if making his mind up about something and then shrugs out of his coat, holding it out for her to slip into.

“Turn around,” he tells her quietly and she does, turning her head back as he lifts the back of the coat to secure a small handgun in the back of her jeans.

“Connor, I can’t…” she starts, anguish in her voice.

“It’s not for you, don’t worry,” he says calmly, reaching into the trunk to pull out a short knife with a serrated blade which he promptly tucks into her pocket. “I’m thinkin’ our friend in there isn’t going to consider you a threat so he’s not going to be looking for you to be carrying.”

“I think he’s gone crazy,” Lucia whispers, feeling the tears burning at her eyes again. “I could hear it in his voice. Connor, I think he’s done something to Murphy… there was this sound and I could hear… I could…”

“Lucia, look at me,” Connor tells her, taking her by the shoulders and meeting her eyes with his. “You can do this, okay? We’re going to go in there and get Murphy back. I want you to follow my lead, alright, just keep calm and everything will be okay, I promise you. If the shit hits the fan, you run, okay? Find someplace to hide until it’s over. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I swear.”

She nods vigorously, swallowing the tears and the panic and pushing them deep inside her before she follows him as he leads her to a small door on the side of the building. Coming inside, Lucia’s nose is assaulted with a myriad of smells, the most overwhelming that of stale blood and disinfectant and, as her eyes adjust to the dim light inside, she realizes they’re in a meatpacking plant. With the confident way that Connor is leading her around she knows that this is the place he and Murphy used to work but it disturbs her to think that Dylan somehow must know that too or why else would he have chosen this place. She doesn’t have time to ponder it for long as the corridor they’re in opens out into the main area of the plant and she stops dead at the sight in front of her.

Hanging from one of the large butcher hooks on a rail that runs along one side of the room is Murphy, his hands bound with a plastic zip-tie, naked from the waist up. Lucia’s hand flies to her mouth and she clutches even tighter at Connor’s fingers as she sees the brutal beating Murphy’s taken, his face swollen and black under the single light that’s been switched on. What’s more concerning is the rivers of blood that are painting his torso as he hangs limply against his restraints, his knees buckled and his wrists taking the brunt of his weight with more blood trickling from the indents of the plastic cutting into them.

Lucia starts forward at a run but pulls up short when Dylan steps from the shadows at Murphy’s back, moving quickly to his side to press the tip of a lethal-looking butcher’s knife up under Murphy’s chin.

“That’s far enough, bitch,” Dylan spits and Lucia freezes to the spot. “On the table there’s more ties. Why don’t you do us both a favor and restrain your dog there. We don’t want him causing trouble before we get to the good part, now do we?”

Lucia flicks her eyes back to Connor and he nods curtly, never taking his eyes from Dylan and Murphy, so she grabs one of the thin, plastic ties from the steel table and moves behind Connor.

“Weapons first,” Dylan instructs and Connor stares defiantly back at him for a moment until he digs the blade deeper into Murphy’s throat causing a fresh line of blood to run down and join the others on his chest.

Moving slowly so as not to provoke any more blood-letting on Dylan’s part, Connor removes both his guns from the holsters under his arms, placing them on the floor, and turns to take the one from the back of his jeans, raising his arms as he faces Dylan again to let him know that’s everything. Dylan signals for Connor to kick them in his direction, quickly bending to retrieve them and then throwing them one at a time into the shadowed recesses of the factory, their metallic clanging echoing around the place as they land in the darkness. Dylan gives a nod to Lucia and she moves behind Connor to secure his wrists with the zip-tie, pulling it tight so that Dylan can see it’s done. Standing close to Connor’s side, one hand resting on his back, she looks over at Dylan, trying to keep her expression neutral.

“You wanted to talk, Dylan, so let’s talk,” she tells him, her eyes flicking between his face and Murphy’s unconscious form beside him.

“Talk?” Dylan asks, an air of fake confusion in his voice. “Oh, I think you misunderstood me, wife. There’s not going to be any talking. There’s just going to be you watching as I clean the filth from your life and make you whole again for me. I’m going to cleanse you and then we’re going far away from this godforsaken place.”

“Then let’s go,” Lucia pleads. “Why wait? You don’t need to waste your time with them, we can just go, the two of us. Right now. Start again.”

“I can’t do that, Lucia, not when I know this scum is still breathing,” Dylan roars, his placid demeanor of a moment ago suddenly replaced with a look of pure fury. “Knowing that he touched you, violated you. I can’t stand it. Filth like him don’t deserve to live. Oh, I know all about who your new friends are, Lucia, I did my research. They think they’re so righteous, so above everyone else but what they really are is a pair of thieves and murderers. They’re no better than the scum they slaughter, they just have you brainwashed to believe what they’re doing is right. I mean look at where they came from, this place. You really think God chose a pair of butchers to do His work for him? You’re deluding yourself, Lucia, they’ve filled your head with all this Saints crap and you’ve let yourself believe it because you’re weak. You were always weak, that’s why you needed me to protect you back then and why you need me now. You’ll see the truth as soon as I remove the lies these two have planted in your brain about me.”

He turns to give Murphy a look of pure hatred and disgust that chills Lucia’s core but she uses his distraction to slip the knife concealed in her pocket into Connor’s waiting palm and then steps around in front of him effectively blocking him from Dylan’s sight.

“Dylan you don’t have to do this,” she begs, drawing closer to him. “I’ll go anywhere you want.”

“Do you love him?” Dylan asks suddenly, tracing the tip of his blade along Murphy’s ribs and sneering at her.

“No,” she answers, horrified to see the dozen or more cuts across Murphy’s skin, some of them looking dangerously deep and oozing a steady stream of blood that’s pooling under the tips of his hanging boots.

“Liar!” Dylan screams at her, whipping the blade harder across Murphy’s skin to open another gash.

“No!”  Lucia screams, stepping forward as Murphy’s head jerks up in pain and for a second she sees the recognition in his clouded eyes before his chin drops back to his chest again.

“Do you love him?” Dylan asks again, gesticulating wildly with the knife in her direction.

“Yes, I do,” she answers him strongly, knowing that it won’t matter what she says, his end goal will still be the same. “I love him like I’ve never loved anyone in my whole life. He’s my world, my very reason for existing on this pitiful planet and you’ll never understand that, Dylan. You’ll never have a love like that because you’re not capable of it. You tried to break me once and you just made me stronger. I never loved you, I know that now, I was young and weak and stupid. I’ll never love you, Dylan, I could never love you and you can kill him a million times over and that’s never going to change.”

“Oh, I think once will be enough,” Dylan shoots back at her with a wild look in his eyes.

Before she can even take her next breath, he’s turned and plunged the knife into Murphy’s ribs, yanking it viciously back in a fountaining spray of blood as Murphy screams in pain. Fumbling for the gun Connor placed under her coat what seems like a lifetime ago, Lucia feels herself shoved to one side as Connor comes from behind her in a ball of murderous rage. Seemingly oblivious to the knife in Dylan’s hand, Connor launches himself at the bigger man and Lucia can see the full extent of his fury translating into a series of brutal punches. She doesn’t take more than a second to watch though, her full attention swinging to Murphy who has passed out again and is hanging limply from the hook, blood pouring from the wound in his side. Frantically looking around, she catches sight of the discarded knife she had given to Connor to free his hands and she scoops it up, reaching up on her toes to saw through the hard plastic around Murphy’s wrists. She’s fully aware of the sounds of the fight raging behind her but she can’t take the time to spare them a glance as Murphy’s body drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

In a blind panic, Lucia falls to her knees beside him, what little medical knowledge she has fleeing her brain at the sight of his ashen skin and the copious amounts of his blood which are painting everything. She cradles him half on her lap, trying to apply pressure to the wound in his side with nothing more than her bare hands, her skin slipping slickly against his. He’s laying deathly still in her embrace and she can’t even tell if he’s breathing or not through the tears that are streaming from her eyes. With a shaking hand she fumbles in her pocket for her phone but a roar to her left jerks her attention in that direction and she sees Dylan straddling Connor on the stained concrete, his fists flying as he lays into the man beneath him. For a fleeting second, Lucia is torn – her desire to get help for Murphy warring with her need to aid Connor. Groaning in frustration, she drops her phone and grabs once again for Connor’s knife, slipping out from under Murphy’s weight and pushing to her feet to hurtle herself in Connor’s direction. With a primal scream born of nothing but her pure need to protect her family, she plunges the short blade into Dylan’s shoulder, falling back as he surges up with a roar and lashes out at her. Skittering back away from him, she turns onto her knees reaching up under her coat to yank out the gun before spinning back to aim it in his direction.

“What are you going to do, Lucia,” Dylan laughs, his mouth a gaping maw of blood from Connor’s punches, the knife still protruding from his shoulder blade, “Shoot me? We both know you don’t have it in you.”

“Maybe not,” she replies, watching a shaky Connor rise to his feet behind Dylan, “but, luckily for me, I have someone who doesn’t have that problem.”

With a grunting exhale, Lucia pulls back her arm and tosses the gun to Connor, watching it skim past Dylan who lunges for it but whose reach is hindered by the knife in his flesh. Connor catches it with ease and has it aimed at Dylan’s head before the hulking man can even take one step towards him.

“Finish it!” screams Lucia, sinking down beside Murphy’s body and pulling him back into her arms.

Dylan raises his arms either in defense or in preparation to attack, Lucia can’t tell and she doesn’t care and, when Connor fires without a moment’s hesitation, she doesn’t flinch or look away as his life ends. Dylan crashes to the ground, the sound of the shot that killed him rolling off the walls of the building as Connor rushes to Lucia’s side to check on his brother.

“Connor, I don’t… I can’t find a pulse,” Lucia blurts out, the words strangling in her throat as her blood-slicked fingers slide against Murphy’s cool skin and she looks down in anguish at her lover’s still features.  


	11. Chapter 11

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Murphy can hear Connor’s voice, speaking in a low tone but obviously arguing with someone and he wants to tell his brother to take it someplace else, that he's trying to sleep here, but he just can’t seem to find the strength to open his eyes. His mind feels like it’s floating free of his body and he thinks to himself that he must be a Sunday morning  after a really good Saturday night because he can’t quite seem to wake up enough to figure out what’s going on. He lays there, his body feeling comfortably numb, and tries to remember where he was the night before and why Connor is even in his room at all, let alone arguing with… Lucia! Her voice penetrates his foggy mind and he feels a warmth steal over him that always comes with her presence but that feeling is tempered by the anguished tone he can hear in her words. From what he can make out she appears to be blaming herself for something that’s happened and he wishes that he could focus enough to understand what’s really going on. He wants to tell her that whatever it was can’t have been her fault, that she shouldn’t beat herself up over it, and he struggles to pull himself to full consciousness but fails. A small sliver of anxiety worms into his brain as he wonders why he can’t move no matter how hard he seems to be trying, his need to comfort his lover overwhelming him, but he relaxes a little as he hears Connor’s reassuring tones again.

“Ya can’t blame yourself, love, none of this is your fault. There’s no way any of us could have predicted this. You have to let it go, it’s what he'd want. If he knew you were torturing yourself over this you know he'd go crazy. There’s only one person who’s to blame and that motherfucker ain’t comin’ back. I need you to focus all your energy on helping this one get better and just forget the rest, okay?”

“Okay,” agrees Lucia and although Murphy can hear the slight tremor in her words, he can also hear her strength and he gives a mental smile and offers silent thanks to his brother for saying the words he can’t.

His mind drifts, trying to piece together what his family were talking about, wondering who is gone and who needs to get better but he can’t keep his focus and he lets himself slip into oblivion again, thinking he’ll figure it out when he wakes up.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

When consciousness does finally come back to him, it’s accompanied by a searing jolt of pain in his ribs that has him inhaling sharply and then wishing he hadn’t. He opens his eyes to a semi-dark, unfamiliar room, lost for a moment as his brain slowly works out that he’s in a hospital bed and judging from the way his torso is wrapped like a mummy, he's the one who was injured. He takes a second to get his bearings, the drug-induced fog lifting from his brain to let him recall what had happened to him, how Dylan had gotten the drop on him and tortured him. There’s a dryness in his throat when he swallows that feels like two pieces of sandpaper sliding together and he turns his head looking for water, feeling the painful pull of his skin across his broken face. In the dim glow coming from the night light above his bed, he catches sight of Connor and Lucia sleeping together on the tiny sofa under the window, his arm curled protectively around her and her body resting on his.

“If you two are cheating on me, you’re doing a piss-poor job of keeping it a secret,” Murphy says, his cracked voice sounding awfully loud in the dead silence of the room.

They’re both startled into wakefulness and as they fly from their seat to his bedside, he can see the weariness on both their faces and the haunted look in their eyes. He notes that Connor is sporting some pretty impressive bruising along his jaw but Lucia looks as perfect as she always does to him, even though she’s wearing a blood-stained t-shirt and she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week.

“It lives!” Connor says, his tone mocking but Murphy knows his brother better than he knows himself and he can feel the relief pouring out of those words.

“Fuck you,” he replies, coughing a little at the scratchy feeling in his throat and Lucia elbows Connor out of the way to grab the water pitcher from the bedside table and pour him a glass.

As she holds it out to him he can see the slight tremble on its surface from the shaking in her hand and he closes his fingers around hers for a second before taking the glass from her and greedily swallowing its contents. Sighing, he reaches up to wipe his mouth and winces as his fingers touch the swollen surface of his face. Lucia takes the glass from his other hand, turning to place it back on the table but not before he catches sight of the tears welling in her eyes and his heart aches at being the cause of her pain.

“So, how do I look?” he asks, deliberately keeping his tone light to push away any more worry from her face.

“Ugly as sin,” grins Connor, “so no fuckin’ change there then.”

“How do you feel?” Lucia asks, stepping back to the bed and taking his hand in hers to squeeze it tightly. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I feel like I’ve been through a fuckin’ blender,” Murphy replies with a small chuckle and another wince as his ribs protest the sound. “Last thing I remember is coming home from Whitey’s around 2:00am and findin’ the back door to the bar propped open. I wasn’t carryin’ so I was looking for something to use as a weapon before I went in and that’s when that motherfucker jumped me. Hit me in the back of the head with something and took me down. Next thing I knew I was hanging up in the meat plant like a rare side of beef and psycho boy there was ranting about how we’d brainwashed you and how it was up to him to be your salvation and how I needed to be cleansed from your life. When he ran outta words he started using his fists and, when he got bored with that, he moved onto the knife.”

“That sadistic little fucker,” Connor spits and Murphy can feel Lucia’s fingers tightening on his. “Don’t you worry, brother, I gave that prick what he deserved. He ain’t gonna be bothering anyone else ever again.”

“I saw you,” Murphy tells Lucia, looking into her eyes. “I didn’t know if I was dreaming it or not but you were really there, weren’t you?”

“Hell yeah, she was there,” Connor crows, throwing an arm around Lucia’s shoulder. “You should’ve seen her, man, she was fuckin’ brave as hell. I sure as shit wouldn’t want to mess with her.”

“Oh hush,” Lucia says, elbowing him gently in the ribs before turning her attention back to Murphy. “Do you need anything? How’s your pain?”

“Nah, I’m fine. It’s been worse,” he replies, tentatively fingering the bandages across his midriff. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“Well, apart from the usual bumps and bruises, you’ve got a fractured cheekbone, you lost about a bazillion pints of blood which I had to give back,” Connor says smugly, rolling up his sleeve to show the bandaid at the crook of his elbow, “and that last blow, between your ribs, nicked your liver which is why you looked like a stuck pig when he was done.”

“You were actually incredibly lucky,” Lucia chimes in, nervously running her fingers along the back of his hand and up his arm, carefully avoiding the IV set in his skin. “If he'd stabbed you anywhere else, you’d probably be dead by now. You’d already lost enough blood from the other cuts he'd made, if he'd hit anything more vital you might not have made it.”

“My liver’s not vital?” Murphy asks dryly, feeling the weight suddenly of what a narrow escape he'd had.

“Well, you can’t ever drink whiskey again, little brother, but I’m sure we can find you some nice imported beers that won’t have too much of an effect on it, now.”

“Fuck that,” Murphy snorts, half wondering if he’s being serious until Lucia butts in.

“Don’t listen to him, babe, you’ll be fine. Just have to take it easy for a few weeks, nothing too strenuous, definitely no outings with your crazy-ass brother and the doctors say it will heal fine on its own, everything will.”

 “Talking of doctors,” Connor adds, “I told James we’d call him when your lazy arse woke the fuck up.”

“James was here?”

“Yeah, we had some issues with the pricks in the ER not wanting to give you what you needed without you havin’ any insurance so Lucia called him to see if he could help us smooth things out. Brother came right on down here and took care of everything, got you this nice private room and all the drugs a growing boy could need. I’m starting to think that we owe him and not the other way around.”

“Aye, I think you could be right,” Murphy agrees, silently offering up a prayer of thanks to whoever’s watching out for his worthless ass.

“I’ll go call him,” Connor says, “give you two lovebirds a moment alone. Maybe see if that sweet little candy striper is still hanging around.”

“Connor!” exclaims Lucia, nudging his ribs again as he gives her an innocent-looking shrug.

 “What?” he smirks at her before leaning in to wrap a hand around the back of Murphy’s neck and bending to whisper in his ear. “You scare me like that again, ya little shit and I’ll be the one puttin’ ya in this bed. We go together, remember? You are sure as hell not takin’ that journey first, ya hear me?”

Murphy nods as Connor tugs gently on the back of his hair before planting a brief kiss on the top of his head and turning to leave the room without another word.

“I’ve never seen him scared before,” Lucia says quietly, her face turned to the closed door. “I’ve never been that scared.”

“Hey,” Murphy says, reaching out to turn her back to him, “it’s okay, I’m fine. We’re all fine. Just another day at the office, love.”

“But it wasn’t,” she tells him sharply. “It wasn’t something you chose to do, it was something that was thrown at you because of me.”

“Lucia, don’t do that. It’s not your fault. Didn’t you hear what Connor said? You can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over. Dylan was a psycho, end of story. If he hadn’t gotten me, he might’ve taken you and I would give myself instead of that happening a million times over.”

“You heard us?”

“Yeah, I was kinda drifting in and out there for a while. I guess they gave me some really good shit but I knew you guys were here. And Connor was right with what he said, you hold no blame in this and I don’t want to ever hear you say you do again, understand?”

“I thought you said Connor was a drunken arse who talks shit?” Lucia asks, giving him a small smile.

“Aye, he’s that too but, just for once, he's right,” Murphy laughs, tugging on her hand and trying to ignore the burning pain in his ribs.

She leans over to kiss him, her lips brushing lightly over the least ravaged parts of his skin until she finds his lips and she presses hers firmly to them, letting him feel every ounce of her love and concern for him in that moment. Murphy’s head reels a little when she finally pulls back, a sweet smile curling the corners of her mouth, and he reaches up to stroke a fingertip down her cheek.

“Best medicine in the world,” he whispers.

“Oh, real smooth, MacManus, real smooth,” she teases him but he can see her smile reaching her eyes this time and it lightens his heart.

“So, how long was I out?” he asks her, suddenly curious as to what went down after he was incapacitated. “What happened at the plant?”

“It’s Monday morning, baby, almost 5:00am,” Lucia informs him, glancing at her watch, “so you’ve been out of it for just over a day. Hell, it seems so much longer.”

“What’d I miss?” asks Connor coming back into the room and closing the door behind him. “You two finish making out yet?”

“Haha, I was just telling sleeping beauty here that he’s been out of it for the past 24 hours. He wants to know what happened after we saved his sorry ass.”

“Well, whaddya think happened, ya idjit? We got you here as fast as we could and while they were cleanin’ you up and making sure everything was still where it belonged, I called the lads at the station and they took care of the rest. Green Beans came over to the hospital to take the official reports from the ER and make those disappear and the other two called in a mysterious John Doe down at the docks that looked like the victim of a mugging gone bad. The usual crap. Nothing to worry about, my dear brother.”

“So, we’re good?”

“Free and clear as always,” Connor tells him, making the sign of the cross in front of his face. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, brother.”

They’re interrupted by the door opening again and a nurse coming in for morning rounds so Lucia and Connor excuse themselves, saying Murphy needs to rest and that they’ll be back later after they’ve cleaned up a bit. Murphy agrees, as much as he hates to be left alone in this place, he doesn’t miss the disapproving look Lucia’s blood-stained clothing gets from the nurse and he realizes neither of them must have left since he was admitted. With a flurry of farewells and goodbye kisses from Lucia, they leave him alone for the time being and he lays back and lets the medical staff get on with their work, answering questions when they ask but all the time wondering how soon it will be before he can get out of there. When the doctor has visited him and he’s been given his next round of pain relief, they finally leave him alone and he dozes off again, knowing that it’s the best thing for his body.

The next time he opens his eyes, the room is flooded with warm daylight and Connor and Lucia are back in their place on the sofa across the room, Connor sprawled out with his head in Lucia’s lap, snoring softly, and her with a book propped open against his chest. She looks up as Murphy stirs in the bed, her smile warming him even more than the sun that’s haloing her head.

“How are you doing?” she asks softly.

“Much better since they all stopped poking me this mornin’ and I’ll be doing even better if you tell me I can go home.”

“Sorry, babe, the docs want you to stay one more night for observation, just to be on the safe side.”

“Fuck! And if I sign myself out?”

“Then I’ll kick your ass,” she tells him in all seriousness and he can’t help but smile at the determined expression on her face. “It’s just one more night, the day is half over already. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he concedes, shifting his weight to get more comfortable on the hard bed. “I just kinda wanted to be back in our own bed tonight, ya know, with you.”

“If you two want me to leave, all ya gotta do is ask,” comes Connor’s voice from Lucia’s lap and she pushes him harshly up into a sitting position where he rubs a hand roughly over his face.

“Prick,” she mutters, shoving his shoulder.

“Actually that’s not a bad idea,” says Murphy, grinning at his brother.

“What?”

“You leaving us alone. Why don’t you go get us some real food instead of the crap they’ve been trying to shove down my throat all day?”

“Aye, I can do that,” Connor agrees, pushing up from the sofa and scratching at the back of his head before pulling on his coat. “Won’t be long.”

When he’s gone, Lucia gets up and walks to the side of Murphy’s bed, stroking a hand along his arm.

“Do you need anything else? More pillows? Something to drink?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a kiss, love,” Murphy replies with a smile.

“Hmm, I’m not sure the Doc would allow it. Might be bad for your blood pressure,” Lucia teases him, brushing her fingertips through the hair at his temple.

“Pfft, what do those quacks know? They won’t even let me go home when there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Murph, you were just beaten to a pulp and stabbed! If it was up to me, you’d be here until everything heals.”

“No way! I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t had worse. Coupla days, I’ll be good as new, you’ll see.”

“Uh-huh and just so you know, when you get home tomorrow, you are going straight to bed and you’re not getting out of it again until I’m sure you’re better. I don’t care if it takes eight weeks or eight months.”

“You’re crazy, woman. You’re not the boss of me, if I want to go ou-”

Murphy’s words are cut off in mid rant as Lucia presses her lips firmly to his, kissing him in a way that makes him wonder why he would ever disagree with anything she wanted him to do and making him wish that he wasn’t restricted by his broken body at that moment. She kisses him gently for a few minutes, her hands resting lightly on his cheeks and then parts her lips from his with a sigh, touching her forehead to his.

“You scared me,” she whispers and he can feel her breath warm against his face.

“I’m fine,” he whispers back emphatically, tilting his head back from hers. “Look at me. It’ll take more than an asshole like that to take me out, Lucia, okay? A few weeks and I’ll be as good as new. Just another scar for the collection and chicks dig the scars, right?”

She gives a light laugh and brushes her lips to his in another brief kiss.

“Hot as hell, MacManus, hot as hell.”

“But, seriously, what about you? I don’t know exactly how it went down but I know it must’ve been a shock to ya, lass. Are you okay?”

“I am,” she answers after a moment’s contemplation, “really. Well it’s nothing a barrel of whiskey and a few hundred hours of therapy won’t cure, anyway. Connor finished it… I don’t think I could have… I don’t know, maybe, if it had come to that. All I know is that he hurt you and he was hurting Con and I wanted him dead for that. It didn’t even matter what he’d done to me before or what I knew he’d do to me given the chance again. He was hurting the people I loved and I wanted him to pay. If that’s morally wrong then I’ll be judged by a higher power for my part in it when my day comes but I’m not sorry, not for one instant. Don’t tell me the world isn’t a better place without him in it, I just won’t believe it.”

Murphy absorbs her words, looking for any sign that what she’s saying isn’t true, that she’s just telling him what he wants to hear so he won’t worry but he can’t find any deception in her words.

“C’mere,” he says softly, reaching up a hand to slide around the back of her neck and pull her in for another kiss.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

By the time Connor gets back, balancing two pizza boxes in one hand and six-pack in the other which Murphy has no idea how he got past the nurse’s station, Lucia has somehow managed to crawl onto his tiny bed and make herself comfortable beside him. Although he knows she’s being incredibly careful not to jostle him too much, he can feel the warmth of her body through the thin hospital blanket and he doesn’t care if it hurts in the slightest. All he wants is to lose himself in the comfort of her closeness and, when visiting hours are over and they’ve been told to leave by a sour-looking nurse, he doesn’t protest too much when Lucia refuses to go, claiming security can just try and make her if they think they have the balls. Connor, naturally, refuses to leave either and, after two more failed attempts by his long-suffering nurse to get them out, she finally raises her hands in exasperation, administers his medication for the night and leaves them to it. With Connor stretched out on the sofa and Lucia tucked up at his side, her fingers twined in his, Murphy lets his body slip into a welcome rest, the drugs in his system pushing him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It takes until lunchtime the next day for him to be released, between waiting for the doctor to see him and sign him out and the endless amount of forms he has to fill in, and when Lucia finally wheels him out to where Connor is waiting with the car, he breathes a deep sigh of relief. Back home, Lucia fusses over him much to Connor’s amusement and he settles back into his own bed, ignoring his brother’s constant stream of digs and sarcastic comments. He and Connor have never had anyone to look after them before the way that Lucia does, they’ve both pretty much taken care of each other over the years and neither of them have exactly been the nurturing type. But now, they have someone in their lives who is concerned for their well-being for no other reason than she loves them and wants to take care of them and Murphy finds that most days he can barely keep the smile off his face.

His recovery is slow at first, Lucia being true to her word and keeping him confined to their bed while he heals, but he soon starts to improve. Connor never strays very far from his side, constantly badgering him to stop being such a pussy and get the fuck up but Murphy knows that they’re both just using it as an excuse to take a break for a while. They’ve been dealing justice and death for almost four years now without stopping and, while Murphy knows that the evil lurking in the underbelly of the city will still be waiting for them, he somehow feels that they’ve earned this respite. So, he enjoys his time with his family, spending his days with Lucia while she works, just letting his body heal and his soul rest. As the weeks pass, he begins to feel better than he has in a long time, his body recovering not only from the recent trauma but from a host of other injuries that he’s never had time to deal with. In the blink of an eye it’s May and some days Murphy can almost pretend that his life as a Saint is nothing more than some fevered dream he had in the dark depths of night. Now his existence is one of warmth and light, lazy days filled with people he loves just living out a mundane routine that is as far from danger as possible. If he’s honest with himself, there’s always a small part of him yearning for the adrenalin rush and an even larger part of him that’s feeling guilt over his inaction but, for now, he’s keeping both of those parts locked deep inside.

“I see your brother didn’t come home again last night,” Lucia tells him with a smile as she takes a seat next to him on the sun-warmed sofa.

“Aye, and we both know where he was,” Murphy smirks, taking the mug of coffee she hands him and setting it down next to him. “That’s what, four nights this week?”

“Yep, and three last week. I do believe Casanova may actually be in love.”

“Okay, let’s not get crazy here,” relies Murphy with a small snort.

“Why not? He’s been seeing Michelle for nearly a month, when has that ever happened before? Never, right?”

“True, but I’m still not sure I’d call it love.”

“Pfft, he’s got it bad. I’m beginning to forget what he looks like.”

Murphy chuckles at her smiling face, wondering if she could actually be right. He certainly hasn’t seen his brother spend more than a weekend with the same woman in as long as he can remember but he certainly seems taken with this one. Murphy can’t help but wonder what this means for them and what they do, now that they both seem to have other priorities in their lives. He thinks that maybe he and Connor need to have a long talk about their future sometime soon, if his smitten sibling ever decides to come home that is. He stares out over the rooftops, not really focusing on anything, losing himself in his thoughts.

“Penny for them,” Lucia says, gently nudging his elbow and grinning at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

“Just thinking how pretty you look today, love,” he answers, running his hand down her thigh, his fingers tickling the bare skin of her knee at the edge of her short skirt.

“Sure you were,” she scoffs but wraps her fingers over his and leans in closer to him. “So, what do you want to do this afternoon?”

“You,” he replies, squeezing her kneecap.

“Ha!” she exclaims, shoving his shoulder with hers and then leaning away to set her coffee down on the roof’s rough surface.

“I’m serious,” he tells her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she comes back up and drawing her close to him. “You think I don’t know you put this dress on this morning just to drive me fuckin’ wild, watching you walk around with that little skirt just flipping against your gorgeous legs. You’ve had me horny since the moment I woke up, love.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers, her face a picture of innocence but he can see the telltale twitch at the corner of her lips that tells him she knew exactly what she was doing. “I put this on because the radio said it was going to hit the high 80s today, that’s all. Can’t you feel it? Aren’t you hot?”

Murphy nips his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at her as she fans herself with one hand, groaning a little at her breathy tone and letting his eyes track down the scooped neckline of her sundress to where he can just see the white lace trim of her bra peeking out.

“Tease,” he grunts, slipping his hand up the inside of her warm thigh to stroke his thumb across her soft skin.

“Me?” she answers innocently, pushing away his hand so that she can get up and climb onto his lap. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to start teasing you yet, baby.”

Murphy’s hands grip tightly at her hips as she lifts her knee to straddle him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders and her breasts pushed up into his face for one breathless moment until she makes herself comfortable. She wiggles a little, pressing tightly down against his crotch and folding her wrists behind his neck.

“Hi,” she says, curling her fingers to stroke through the short hair at the back of his neck, a touch that’s guaranteed to have him begging in minutes and one that she knows all too well.

“Hi yourself,” he responds, sliding his hands down over the swell of her ass to cup her cheeks and pull her tighter to him.

Lucia dips her head, brushing her lips against the skin of his forehead, leaving tiny kisses one after the other down his nose and across his cheeks before pulling back to tilt her head as she looks at him.

“Do you remember what you told me?” she asks, pressing back in to kiss his lips before he has a chance to even ask her when.

Her fingertips are drawing maddening circles on his neck, brushing lightly through his hair as she kisses him softly, teasing his tongue with light darts from hers and he can taste the bitter coffee on her breath. He can feel his cock aching, pushing up under her, the thought of how close he is to being able to get inside her filling him with sexual frustration. He almost makes a keening sound as she parts her lips from his and he looks up into her face, her pupils slightly dilated with her arousal. He reaches up to stroke his hand down through her hair, loving the fact that she’s let it grow out from the shoulder-length cut she had when they first met – he thinks it makes her look even more beautiful and he loves the way it feels, brushing over his skin when they’re making love. He bends his head to kiss at the hollow of her throat, running his tongue along her collarbone to taste her skin and she makes a small contented sound under his touch.

“Remember what?” he mumbles, pushing aside the thin strap of her dress to suck lightly at her shoulder.

“When you told me you missed summer, how you had fantasies about fucking me up here on the roof where anyone could find us?” she asks, lifting his face to look into his eyes once more and this time he does make a sound, something between a grunt and a mewl and she grins wickedly at him. “Summer’s here, lover.”

Murphy wraps his fingers in her hair, stretching forward to kiss her again, more forcefully this time, his tongue dominating her mouth with a sudden urgency. He nips at her lip with his teeth, sucking at it before releasing it and she drops her hands from his face to lean back a little on his lap. Running his tongue over his lips, Murphy slips his hands back to her thighs, stroking small circles on her flesh as he pushes his hand under her skirt and up further. He’s not surprised to find she's not wearing any panties under her dress but the knowledge turns him on even more as his fingertips brush against the hair on her mound and push underneath her. She's already wet for him and he knows she's probably been thinking about this all morning as they went about their normal routine and the thought causes a small moan to escape his lips. He pushes further, his fingers easily parting her wet lips to tease at her entrance, finding that sweet spot just at the edge that has her closing her eyes and forming a little ‘o’ with her mouth. He works at her slowly, turned on by watching her and the illusion of secrecy provided by the light cotton dress that’s covering his movements. In reality he knows that anybody who should look from a neighboring window is going to have no second thoughts as to what they’re doing but there’s still that confidence that their actions are invisible under the flare of her skirt.

“Muuuurphyyy,” Lucia exhales, lowering her face to his and whispering in his ear. “I think I’m ready for you to fuck me now.”

With a grunt, he slips his fingers from her, not missing the sigh that passes her lips as he does so, and undoes his jeans to free his cock which springs to attention. Lucia raises herself slightly from his lap as he positions himself under her and then she's on him, his cock sliding easily into her wetness. Her muscles contract around him as she lowers hers herself down to grind against him and he feels sweat breaking out along his spine. Grinding his teeth, he grabs for her hips, moving her just a fraction so that he can roll his hips up under her. They hold still, locked together, and Murphy can feel all the blood in his body travelling to his cock as she squeezes around him again and moans his name under her breath. Ever so slowly she starts to move, just a tiny roll of her hips back and forth and it’s all Murphy can do not to throw her down on the floor and fuck her hard. But he keeps his cool as best he can, he’s learning to appreciate the slow tease as much as the frenetic pace that brings instant gratification and having Lucia on top of him has become one of his favorite positions. He loves having the freedom to watch her face as she rides him, to be able to reach every part of her as he desires and to let her set the pace and tease him into oblivion for as long as she wants.

He curls one hand around her waist, fingers splayed against her back, and pushes the other up to cup the side of her face, desperate to taste her again. His fingers slip behind her ear, cradling her head as she dips down to meet his lips, their tongues stroking softly together between little moans and puffs of shared breath. He has no concept of time, the world is lost to him, all that exists is her mouth and her body connecting with his, owning every part of him. He wants to tell her how he feels, how much he loves her and desires her but all he can manage is to exhale her name against her lips. He knows that she understands though, reads it in the way her fingers clench in the material of his t-shirt and she rests her forehead against his as she rolls her hips into his over and over again. Her orgasm comes over her body in a slow wave, building to a moment where she’s clinging to him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck and he can feel her pulse throbbing around his aching cock as she contracts around him. As the wetness coating his shaft increases, he feel the familiar pull in the pit of his stomach, her release pushing him over into his own and he bucks up into her hard and fast for a minute until he comes. He sinks his face into the crook of her neck, biting gently at her skin, tasting the salty tang of the fresh sweat on her skin and his arms tighten around her. They finish as they started, locked together in each other’s embrace, their breathing quickened and their bodies sated.

Murphy clings to Lucia, not ready to let her go, laying gentle kisses along every part of her skin he can reach until finally she captures his face in her hands and smiles softly at him.

“I love you,” she tells him, her eyes glinting in the afternoon sun.  

“Love you too,” he replies, turning her hand from his face to kiss her palm.

“Gotta move,” she says with a sigh. “I think we might have to wash your jeans.”

“Ya think?” he chuckles as he reaches under the cover of her skirt to tuck himself back into the soaked denim at his crotch.

Lucia giggles as she clambers off him, stretching her back as she stands up before offering him her hand and pulling him after her.

“Come on,” she smiles, “let’s go get cleaned up.”

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her hand as she starts away and spinning her back into his arms. “Thank you for making the fantasy a reality.”

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine,” she reassures him, stretching up to kiss his lips before leading him to the stairs.

After a quick wash and with a fresh change of clothes, they leave their room to resume their afternoon on the roof only to find a smirking Connor waiting for them in the hallway outside their door.

“Ya know, if you two are going to use the roof as your own personal sexual playground, ya might wanna hang a sock on the door or something to save unsuspecting passersby from stumblin’ into the middle of your shenanigans,” he tells them, leaning casually against the wall with a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck!” curses Murphy, seeing the flush of embarrassment coloring Lucia’s cheeks.

“How long were you up there?” she asks Connor suspiciously but he just grins wider at her and doesn’t answer.

“Pig!” she tells him, pushing past and heading back up the stairs leaving the brothers alone.

“Connor?” Murphy asks in a warning tone.

“Ah, don’t fret, baby brother,” he tells him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I heard ya fore I saw ya, knew better than to open that door all the way.”

Murphy gives him a hard stare for a moment but knows he must be telling the truth or he’d be getting his chain yanked way more than he is right now.

“Alright, but will ya tell that to Lucia too, so she's not freaking out for the rest of the night over what a pervert you are?” Murphy asks, heading for the stairs.

“Hey, I resent that. I’m just a growing boy with a healthy sexual appetite. I can’t help it if your fiancée is a grade ‘A’ hottie, she should be flattered that I’d want to look at her.”

“Con,” Murphy pleads, starting up the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever it takes to keep the little woman happy,” Connor acquiesces, raising his hands in submission. “Hey Murph…”

Murphy stops, almost to the top of the stairs, one hand stretched out to open the door back into the bright afternoon sunshine and reunite him with the woman waiting there for him, but something in his brother’s tone sends a familiar chill down his spine.

“We should talk, later, just us,” Connor tells him in a solemn voice. “I think we have work to do.”

With that, Connor turns and leaves and Murphy opens the door into the summer heat with a cold finger of ice caressing his spine as he walks across the roof to Lucia’s welcoming smile.


	12. Chapter 12

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Lucia turns as the door to the roof opens behind her and smiles as she sees Murphy come through alone. As much as she loves Connor’s company, sometimes she just needs it to be her and Murphy and today was one of those days. She reaches out a hand to him as he approaches, pulling him down to sit beside her on the sofa and lifts his arm around her shoulders to snuggle in against his chest. He holds her close, stroking the bare skin of her arm in a lazy circle with his fingertips and she closes her eyes as she lays her head against his shoulder.

“Love you,” she whispers into the crook of his neck, brushing her lips against his skin in a brief kiss.

“Love you too,” he replies, his breath warm against her forehead and she sighs contentedly, her body feeling loose and relaxed after their impromptu love-making. “You know you asked me what I wanted to do this afternoon? I was thinkin’ maybe we could just do this, if that’s okay with you? I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than right here, holding you in my arms for the rest of my life.”

“Okay, who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” Lucia laughs, lifting her head to look at him.

“Very funny,” Murphy retorts, tickling at her ribs until she's squirming against him and then letting her go when she begs him to stop.

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do either,” she tells him, looking into his eyes for a moment before leaning back against him and bringing her feet up beside her on the sofa.

“Good.”

Murphy holds her close once more and the two of them make themselves comfortable in the warm afternoon sun, curled up together, talking quietly until the light begins to change to a deep golden orange.

When the door opens again, admitting Connor and his new girlfriend, Michelle, onto the roof, everybody greets each other warmly and Lucia knows there’s a fun evening in store.

“Thought we’d come show you losers how to cook some barbecue,” Connor tells them, raising the bulging grocery bag he has in his arms.

“Pfft, the day I fuckin’ need you to show me how to grill is the day they’ll put my corpse in the cold, hard ground,” Murphy scoffs, unwrapping himself from Lucia and joining Connor by the wall.

“Is that so, baby brother? Well we’ll just see about that now, won’t we?”

Lucia rolls her eyes as they descend into one of their bouts of non-stop bickering and motions for Michelle to join her on the sofa. Lucia had really liked her the first couple of times they’d met in the bar, she didn’t have much female company anymore since she had moved on from her friends, and Michelle was nothing like the other girls Connor had been with. To Lucia they seemed an odd match, Michelle was a biker chick through and through from her dyed black hair to her jet black nails, but something between them had obviously just clicked and she was happy to see Connor in a healthy relationship for once. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to bust his balls over it just a little though and she had taken great delight in telling him over and over in front of Michelle that she was way out of his league. Now the two of them sat together, watching their men act like overgrown teenagers as they argued back and forth over who was king of the grill. Getting up a little later to go downstairs for more beers, Lucia notices that the brothers seem to be deep in conversation over something, their voices now hushed as they debate quietly together. Connor catches sight of her looking in their direction and nudges Murphy as she approaches on her way to the stairs, both of them falling suspiciously quiet and Lucia wonders what’s going on. 

Later that night, after Connor has left to take Michelle home and Lucia and Murphy are laying breathless on sheets tangled in the aftermath of their love-making, she rolls her head to look at him and knows something is wrong.

“Are we going to talk about it?” she asks, her fingertips idly tracing the tattoo on his forearm and he looks at her with a confused expression, so she prompts, “whatever’s going on with you and Connor.”

He doesn’t answer her, just gets up and slides to the end of the bed, sitting with his face buried in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. Lucia crosses the bed to join him, sliding her arms around his torso and resting her chin on his shoulder, holding him tight while she waits for him to find the words.

“There’s something we have to do,” he says eventually, “a job.”

“Okay,” she says quietly, offering silent encouragement with the touch of her lips to his skin.

“It’s important, love, something we can’t turn a blind eye too, d’ya understand?”

“Of course,” she replies, not expecting or wanting anything less from him.

“I can’t tell ya what it is, probably safer if you don’t know, but it’s big time.”

“It’s okay, I don’t want to know. I trust you, if you tell me it’s something you have to do then that’s all I need to know. No different than any other time. You’ll take care of it and you’ll come home.”

Murphy hangs his head, his chin dropping to his chest as he inhales deeply and Lucia knows there’s more on his mind, he just needs to get it out in his own way.

“I just thought… ah, it’s stupid,” he starts and she can hear his breathing grow ragged in his chest.

“Tell me.”

“I thought it might be over, that Connor and I were done,” he says and she can hear the unshed tears clouding his words. “These past coupla months have been something I never thought I could have and I let myself believe that maybe we wouldn’t have to go back to how it was before. I guess, deep down, I knew I was deluding myself, that sooner or later some evil piece of shit would rear its head again and we’d have to deal with it. It just never ends, it’s never going to end and we’re never going to be able to stand by and ignore it. This is what we chose and we have to see it through, d’ya know what I mean?”

“Of course,” Lucia answers, loosening her hold on him to turn him around to face her. “This is what you do, it’s who you are and you can’t change that. I wouldn’t want you to change it, not for every peaceful day in the world. We’re living with the hand we’ve been dealt and I think we’re making a damn fine job of it. I couldn’t be more happy. I have everything I want right here.”

She tries to sooth the anxious lines from his forehead with a flurry of light kisses, trying to let him know that it’s okay, that they’ll be okay no matter what happens. She’d known in her heart that the quiet time they’d had was going to come to an end, it had been inevitable really, which is why she’d cherished every second of it while it was happening. Murphy’s hands travel her body, pulling her to him as she moves her mouth to his parted lips and kisses him deeply. This time when they make love it’s slower, more intense even than usual, each of them clinging to one another until it’s over and then collapsing against the tangled sheets together, breathlessly silent.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The very next night he and Connor had geared up to go out, Murphy’s lips trembling against hers as he'd kissed her in a brief goodbye, neither of them having anything more to say, and she’d watched them drive off, leaving her with a heavy heart and a sick emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

They never came back.

The end was bloody and brutal, culminating in a hail of gunfire with nobody left standing, just as she’d always suspected it would. What Lucia learned from the news the following day in a barrage of special bulletins and screaming headlines, was that the Boondock Saints had taken on a group of allegedly crooked cops who were running their own drug ring in the city and beyond. The news reported a massive shootout had taken place the previous night at an undisclosed location, with all participants believed to have perished at the scene. Lucia was beside herself, too scared to call any of the brothers’ contacts for fear of hearing the worst but, as the days had passed and she’d heard nothing, she started to believe that they were truly gone. Doc was inconsolable, going through his daily routine as if the light that had kept him going had suddenly been snatched away and it broke Lucia’s heart not to be able to take some of that pain from him. She spoke to James who was adamant that they were still alive and who was desperate to help but there was just no way for him to get positive identification on the bodies taken from the scene, no matter how many favors he tried to call in. Finally even he gave up and Lucia was left alone to deal with the gaping emptiness in her life, trying to be strong and wondering how that would ever be possible.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Lucia lay awake in the bed she’d shared with Murphy, watching the illuminated numbers on the bedside clock flick their way around from 2am to 3am, sleep eluding her once more. James, having seen the dark circles under her eyes the last time they’d spoken, had prescribed her something to help her rest but all they did were make her brain foggy and dull her memories so she hadn’t taken them more than twice. The last thing she wanted was to lose any precious second of the time she’d had with Murphy that was stored in her mind and if that meant she couldn’t sleep then so be it. Since he’d been gone, she’d taken to sleeping on his side of the bed so, when her phone abruptly starts to ring, she has to scramble back across to her side to retrieve it. A brief glance at the display shows her an unlisted number and she fleetingly wonders who would be calling her at such an ungodly hour.

“Hello,” she says and the echo of her voice comes back at her causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“Lucia,” comes Murphy’s voice, so close and intimate in her ear that she almost screams, reaching out a trembling hand beside her convinced that she’s going to feel his body in the bed next to her. “Lucia, are you there?”

“Murphy?” she asks tremulously, her fingers flying to her mouth in shock.

“Oh love,” he replies and she can hear his voice break into wracking sobs that make her heart clench painfully in her chest.

“Murphy?” she repeats, dumbfounded, her own eyes filling with tears that spill hotly down her cheeks. “How? Where are you? Oh my God. Murphy.”

“We’re in Ireland, love,” he tells her, sucking in a shaking breath.

“Connor? You’re both… you’re both okay?”

“Aye lass, we’re alive and kickin’.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucia whispers feebly, her mind overloaded to the point where she can barely focus.

“It was bad, Lucia, I can’t… we had to go and go fast. There was someone to help us, the person who brought this to us in the first place… he had our backs, had a fuckin’ plan in place in case we needed to flee. He had us on a boat within an hour but I couldn’t call… no matter how much I begged or threatened him, there was just no time. I’ve been goin’ crazy, wonderin’ what you knew.”

“Nothing, I knew absolutely nothing save for what they showed on the news. When I saw there were cops involved, I didn’t dare contact any of the guys at the precinct – I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get. When I didn’t hear from you, I just… just,” she sobs, unable to get the words out to tell him she thought he was dead and gone.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Don’t. It doesn’t matter. You’re alive, that’s all I care about right now,” she tells him, struggling to get herself back under control. “What will you do now?”

“We’re on our way to our Da’s, just waitin’ on a ride. When I get there, I promise I’ll call you first thing. We’ll have more time to talk, okay? Shit, he’s here. I have to go, baby. I love you. I’ll call you soon.”

“I love you too,” she replies, feeling another rush of hot tears fall from her eyes. “Be safe.”

“I will,” he answers and the call disconnects before she can add anything further.

Lucia takes the phone from her ear, watching the display dim as her mind fills with a thousand thoughts and possibilities, her nerves jangling with the after-effects of having heard his voice. Getting up and pulling on her robe, she races blindly down the stairs in the dark, one thought on her mind, and knocks on Doc’s door until she hears him shuffling across the room on the other side. When she tells him the news, his face crumples in relief and his eyes fill with tears but he blinks them away and insists that they need something to celebrate with. Despite the time they toast each other and the brothers with whiskey shots until she is barely able to make it back to her room, her head spinning from more than just the alcohol. He’s alive! Nothing else matters, not the fact that he’s an ocean away from her or that he’s now on the FBI’s most wanted list, it all pales into insignificance in the face of her overwhelming relief at his survival. Still unable to sleep, she calls James as soon as the clock by her bed rolls around to a reasonable hour and he rejoices with her before stopping her cold by asking her when she’s leaving. She falls deathly silent, her thoughts suddenly a jumbled mess until he practically yells down the line to snap her out of it and she mumbles a hurried goodbye and hangs up on him, realizing that, in her relief, she hasn’t even given one thought to what will happen next. She crawls back into their bed, wrapped in one of Murphy’s t-shirts that still holds his scent and hugging his pillow to her as she runs through every possible scenario in her mind.

By the time Murphy calls again, now settled at Noah’s farm deep in the Irish countryside, her mind is made up and she tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s coming to him as soon as is humanly possible.

“No, love, you can’t do that,” he protests, just as she knew he would. “I don’t expect that.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Forget you ever existed and that we made a promise to each other?”

“No… maybe… I don’t know,” he stammers and Lucia can just imagine the way his brow will be furrowed in concentration as he struggles to find the right thing to say. “But you can’t just give up your life for this. It wouldn’t be fair of me to even ask it.”

“Why not? Don’t you want me with you?”

“Of course, more than anything I’ve ever wanted, but your work is there, your family.”

“You’re my family and my work is wherever I take it, hell, I do most of it online anyway so that’s no argument.”

“We’d have nowhere to live, Da practically lives with the sheep. The barn out back has more room than his place.”

“Then we’ll live in the barn,” Lucia laughs. “Or I’ll get a second job and we’ll find a place of our own. As long as I have a roof over my head and a corner to work in that’s all I need and honestly, as long as I’m with you I don’t even need that. I’ll learn how to shear fucking sheep if it means I get to lay next to you every night for the rest of my life.”

“But you can’t just move to another country, Lucia, there are regulations and red tape to get through. Con and I are off the grid, we’ll never be able to have regular lives, even here but you’ll have to-”

“Stop, Murph, just stop. I’m coming and that’s all there is to it. The rest will work itself out, it always does. You need to have a little faith there, Irish boy,” she tells him with a chuckle and there’s silence on the other end of the line for the longest moment.

“Shear sheep, huh?” he asks and she can hear the smile in his voice telling her that everything is going to be fine. “I think I’d pay to see that.”

“See? I’ll be making money in no time,” she laughs.

“You’re crazy, have I told you that?”

“On occasion.”

“And I love you, have I told you that?”

“Not today, no.”

“I love you, Lucia.”

“You better!” she says and the rich sound of his laughter sends a tingle down her spine.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

She had started planning immediately, a nervous excitement fueling her as she made preparations to start a new life in another country. With the practical aspects of her move organized and in motion, she tackled the emotional repercussions with some trepidation and an undeniably heavy heart. Although she wasn’t estranged from her family in any way, her contact with them was not as close as it used to be when she was younger but she still felt a certain pang of sadness as she visited first her parents and then her brother to tell them of her plans. They were supportive, of course, although she could see the worry in her mother’s eyes at the thought of her only daughter uprooting herself for a man they’d never even met. Lucia tried her best to assuage her mother’s fears, telling her what a good, decent man Murphy was and how much she knew he loved her. She promised to be in touch as soon as she was settled and, as her father had embraced her before she’d left, he had pressed a check into her hand, saying it was just a little something to get her started in her new life. Lucia had tried to give it back, telling him that she couldn’t take it, but he had refused and she had hugged both him and her mother even tighter, thankful that they were as supportive of her choices as they had ever been. Perhaps the hardest goodbye for her had been Doc, although he said he had known it was coming as soon as they’d found out the brothers were alive, she still felt an enormous guilt at leaving him suddenly alone. He had told her not to be foolish, that he'd been running the bar for enough years without the three of them getting in his way and he was sure he could carry on without them.

Three weeks later, Lucia finds herself boarding a plane to London, a nervous anticipation gnawing at her insides for the entire journey. She’s travelling light, having sent the rest of their belongings by freight forwarder to an address Murphy had given her, saying they would be safe there until they’d found a permanent place to live. She spends a restless night in London before travelling across England the following day to board the ferry to Ireland and arrives at her destination feeling groggy and sleep-deprived. When she exits the ferry terminal, dragging her uncooperative suitcase behind her and feeling lost amongst the throngs of people, Murphy is waiting for her and every drop of fatigue drains from her body in an instant. Tossing her bags to the ground without a second thought, she lets herself to be swept up into his embrace, laughing and crying as they cover each other’s faces with exuberant kisses. She sobs against him, drinking in the sight of his face, her fingers tracing his skin over and over completely oblivious to the world passing them by until another pair of strong hands turns her around and she finds herself being lifted from the ground in an enthusiastic hug from Connor. Squealing with delight she holds him tight, overjoyed to see him alive and well, and he swings her around before placing her back on her feet where Murphy’s arms snake back around her instantly.

With Connor carrying her bags so that she doesn’t have to relinquish her hold on Murphy for a second more than necessary, the three of them make their way out to where the brothers are parked. Climbing into the front seat of the decrepit-looking white van, sandwiched between Connor in the driver’s seat and Murphy on her other side, Lucia’s nose is assailed with the overpowering stench of livestock and she has to check the rear of the vehicle to make sure there no additional passengers of the four-legged variety back there.

“I’m sorry about the van, love,” Murphy apologizes, rolling down the window to let some of the smell out.

“I don’t care,” she says, curling in closer against his side, not wanting to lose contact with him for a second. “As long as we’re driving someplace together, I can put up with anything.”

“Oh please,” Connor interjects in a teasing tone. “Don’t tell me you two are going to be makin’ fuckin’ goo-goo eyes at each other the whole way home or I might just have to vomit.”

“We just might,” Lucia answers him, turning to poke him in the thigh.

“Heaven help me then,” Connor says, smirking as he makes the sign of the cross in front of his face.

Lucia ignores him as the city streets thin out and she gets her first real look at the lush green of the summer countryside. She feels almost dizzy with the sight of her new surroundings and her reunion with Murphy, unable to break the smile that’s plastered on her face.

“James sends his best wishes,” she tells them as Connor races the van along the narrow country lanes in pretty much the same fashion he'd driven on the streets of Boston. “I had to tell him, I’m sorry. You know he’ll never tell anyone else.”

“It’s fine, lass,” Connor tells her. “We know he’s a good man, he’ll do right by us. How’s Doc doing?”

“Much better once he found out you two reprobates were still around to cause trouble,” Lucia laughs. “He misses you like crazy, of course, but he’s a stubborn old ass so I think he’ll survive without you.”

“Aye, he’ll be fine,” Murphy says, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Probably be glad to see the back of us.”

Lucia nods, knowing it’s not true but willing to let herself pretend that it is.

“Connor, I spoke to Michelle,” she tells him, her heart aching at the sad look that flits briefly across his face before he can stop it. “She came looking for you the day after it happened. I- I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to lie to her, it didn’t seem right. You guys were all over the news at the time so I gave her just enough of a hint to put two and two together and something tells me she wasn’t all that surprised. I spoke to her a couple of times after that, she called to see how I was doing, but then we just stopped… I guess there was nothing more to say at that point. When I found out that you were still alive, I didn’t tell her. I thought maybe it would be easier for her if she just kept thinking you were dead. Was that wrong?”

“No, lass,” Connor says quickly, flicking his eyes from the road to her and then back again. “That’s probably the best thing all round.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucia says quietly and Murphy rubs her arm comfortingly.

“It is what it is,” Connor replies, concentrating on the road ahead. “Can’t be changed.”

They spend the rest of the trip in relative silence, content just to be back in each other’s company as the miles fly by.

When Connor pulls the van into the streets of a small town, nestled in the rolling hills that stretch as far as Lucia can see, she perks up a little as he parks in front of a traditional-looking hotel. He kills the engine and they get out, Lucia stretching from all the travelling she’s done in the past couple of days as she looks up at the warm stone façade of the two-story building, its window boxes and yard festooned with bright flowers. Taking a deep breath, she realizes she can just make out a hint of the ocean on the breeze and she knows they can’t be too far from the coastline. Connor opens the rear door of the van to pull out her bags which Murphy dutifully picks up, ready to carry inside.

“This is where I have to love ya and leave ya,” Connor says, pulling Lucia in for a big hug.

“You’re not staying with us?” she asks, feeling a little pang of disappointment as she tightens her arms around his waist.

“What, and have to listen to you two going at it all night like wild beasties? Fuck no. I’m going back to Da’s, it’s only about half hour away. I’ll come see how you’re doin’ tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Lucia agrees reluctantly, giving him a squeeze.

“Take care of him,” Connor whispers, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “The trip was rough on him without ya.”

“I will,” she promises softly and then lets him go, standing with Murphy until the van has disappeared from sight.

The hotel is just as quaint inside as it is out, the décor charming if slightly dated but it has a welcoming feel to it and their room is clean and a good size with a pretty view of the countryside.

“Are ya tired, love?” Murphy asks, laying her case on an empty armchair. “Why don’t ya take a nap? I’m sure jetlag is kickin’ your ass.”

“A little,” she tells him, “but I think I’d like to take a shower before I lay down.”

“Right there,” he says, inclining his head to one of the closed doors set in the far wall.

Lucia opens it to see a small but sparkling bathroom and she sighs at the thought of cleaning the travel grime from her skin. Turning back to Murphy, her heart misses a beat as she meets his eyes and she realizes just how much she’s missed his face since they’ve been apart.

“Join me?” she asks softly and he crosses the room to her so fast that she barely has time to breath.

Backing her into the bathroom and closing the door with his foot, he stands, his torso pressed firmly against hers as he looks down at her and she can feel his skin trembling. Wordlessly, he undresses her, taking his time to peel each piece of clothing from her body, his fingers brushing over her exposed skin until she’s the one shivering under each caress. Reaching past her, he turns on the shower, testing the water before he guides her to step in. Lucia stands under the warm spray, watching as he undresses, taking note of the fresh wounds on his flesh that are barely healed and feeling thankful that there’ll never be another new one. He joins her in the tub, pulling the shower curtain across so that they’re sealed in their own private world, just the two of them together once more. Tentatively, Lucia reaches out a hand, running her fingertips over the scars and tattoos on his flesh, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in her wake. Murphy lets her explore his body, standing still until she’s satisfied that she’s taken stock of any changes and then cupping her face in his hands when she looks back up at him. His eyes scan her face, his serious look relaxing into his familiar grin and there’s just a moment of hesitation before his lips meet hers, a moment filled with all the want and need of the past few weeks.

Lucia groans a little as his mouth meets hers, clutching at his wet torso to bring his body flush with hers, needing to feel him against her. They turn together under the steady stream of warm water, lost in a kiss that conveys a thousand words and feelings, their bodies bumping and sliding together in the small space. An unexpected spray of water caused by their continuous movement together catches them both in the face and they break apart with a gasp, looking at each other for a second before laughing.

“Wash my back?” Lucia asks with a wink, handing Murphy the tiny bottle of bodywash from the shower caddy before turning away from him.

She hears him pop the top and then put the bottle back before pressing his hands to her shoulders and letting the creamy liquid glide over her skin as he rubs gentle circles on her aching muscles. She leans into his touch as his hands work lower, slipping across her hips and around to her stomach, pulling her in against him as he pushes his hands up to cup her breasts. His breath is hot against her shoulder as he gently squeezes her flesh, his thumbs rubbing at her nipples until she’s moaning and arching her back against him. He drops one hand from her breast and Lucia slaps her palm against the wet tiles as his fingers deftly find their way to her clit and his soapy skin slides against her. Teasing her with a series of quick strokes, varying the pressure with each move he makes, Lucia closes her eyes, her fingers curling on the cool surface in front of her and pushes her ass back against him, feeling the rigid heat of his cock digging into her flesh.

“Murphy,” she exhales, her breath hitching in her throat as his fingers find the perfect rhythm against her clit. “Muuuurphh.”

She wants to convey to him how badly she needs him inside her, how she’s aching to recapture what’s been absent from her life, but he’s making it impossible for her to formulate coherent thoughts, let alone get the words out. He teases her for a minute longer, bringing her almost to orgasm, rubbing his cock against her ass in tandem with his fingers pushing inside her and then he abruptly releases her. Lucia’s eyes fly open at the sudden loss of stimulation, her body quivering with pent up frustration, and she turns as he reaches to slam off the water and step out of the shower. She has a second to admire the sleek lines of his body, the water beading on his flesh and the veins standing out on his straining cock, before he scoops her up out of the tub and carries her into the bedroom. He practically throws her on the bed and climbs on after her, roughly parting her thighs as he moves over her and slips inside her all in one motion. Lucia groans loudly as her walls part around him, feeling him fill her fully as he thrusts hard against her, water drops flying from his skin to splatter on her torso. In their relationship she’s seen him be many things when they’ve made love – passionate, tender, nervous, dominant – but she's never seen a look of such desperation like the one he's wearing now and she knows he needs her as much as she needs him.

His hips are moving fast against her and it’s all she can do to wrap her ankles around him and hold on as he pounds into her, his eyes locking with hers, his mouth open in a soundless groan of pleasure. The room is filled with the scent of her sex as she squeezes around him, the wet sounds of his cock pushing into her pussy turning her on even more as she rolls her hips up to meet him over and over. She wants him to come, wants to feel him let go inside her so much that she starts whispering his name repeatedly, raking her nails down his back to dig into his ass, squeezing him hard. Murphy grunts loudly, his eyes widening as his body jerks into her and she can feel his muscles tensing as he holds his position so she squeezes even tighter around him, her pussy pulsing rapidly as he comes inside her. The sensation is all she needs to push her over and, with one final buck of her hips up against him, she feels her orgasm grip her and she cries out as she clings to him, riding out the waves of pleasure tearing through her.

“Lucia,” Murphy groans, still moving slowly against her.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” she warns him, wrapping tighter around him as her lungs fight for air and she feels his weight pressing down on her.

“Goin’ nowhere, love,” he murmurs, holding steady inside her as he lowers his head to kiss her.

She takes his mouth greedily, tasting his tongue with hers, breathing in every breath he exhales and moaning lightly against his lips. Every part of what she’s been feeling since he’s been gone – the devastation at losing him; the physical need to have him close to her again; the jubilation of finding him alive – she pours all of it into that kiss and when their lips finally part, she feels as if the weight of all her emotions has been stripped away and all that’s left is this moment and the anticipation of their new life together. Looking into Murphy’s eyes she can see the same release looking back at her and she grins up at him, planting another quick kiss to his lips, before she squeezes her pussy tight around him one last time and feels his softening cock slip from inside her.

“I think we should finish that shower,” he tells her with a chuckle, untangling himself from her legs and holding out a hand to pull her up after him.

Instead she pulls him back down on top of her, grunting a little as his weight lands on her and wraps her arms back around him.

“I love you,” she tells him, holding his gaze.

“I love you too,” he replies, reaching up to stroke her wet hair away from her face and kiss her briefly.

“So marry me,” she says impulsively and she sees his eyes open in surprise, one eyebrow cocked as he stares back at her.

“You’re crazy,” he laughs, sitting up.

“Why?” she asks, pushing up to sit beside him. “We’re already engaged, isn’t that the next step?”

“Well, aye, but… now. With all that’s gone on? We still have no idea what’s going to happen here.”

“Then all the more reason to do it. I don’t want to be apart from you ever again, not for a single minute. I want you to know that I’m committed to this, to us, no matter what happens.”

“I know you are, love, I am too. I just don’t want you to rush into this when there’s so much uncertainty hanging over us.”

“I’m tired of living my life waiting to see what happens, Murph, that’s the old me. This me wants to grab life by the balls and say, ‘fuck it’. We make our own future and I want my future to be with you.”

“Crazy,” Murphy mutters again but she catches sight of the smile spreading on his lips before he leans in to kiss her once more.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Looking around the old stone walls of the room she’s been directed to wait in, Lucia sits primly on the edge of a formal looking sofa, its subdued floral tones designed to complement the surroundings and she wonders again how she ended up here. Her eyes are drawn to the bright hues of the stained-glass window to her left, the colors only slightly dimmed by the rain that’s beating against the outside. She shivers slightly as her eyes try to follow the rivulets of water trickling down the pane, even though the room itself is pleasantly warm, and she loses focus for a moment. Shaking her head, she smoothes the fabric of the dress she’s wearing against her thighs and looks around the room once more, her eyes skimming over the floor-length mirror in the corner that she’s already checked her appearance in a hundred times since she was ushered inside. Getting up she starts pacing the grey flagstones under her feet, anxious to be moving, wanting to get this day in motion so that she can begin her new life. Inevitably, she ends up back in front of the mirror, turning back and forth to check her outfit, needing to make sure that’s she’s going to create the right impression on the people she’s about to meet. Unconsciously she reaches over to twist the ring on her finger, a habit she picked up from endless nights waiting for Murphy to come home to her, forgetting in that instant that the ring is gone and feeling tears prick at her eyes as her fingertips encounter nothing but skin. Glancing at the antique clock ticking gently on the wall above the fireplace, she wonders if she’s been forgotten, the nervous laugh that bubbles up from her chest ending in an abrupt hiccup as somebody knocks gently on the door. Without waiting for an acknowledgement from her, they swing it open and she’s relieved to see a familiar face looking back at her. Bright blue eyes crinkle around the edges as they meet hers from beneath a mess of dirty blond spikes that he’s obviously tried and failed to tame and Lucia can’t help the grin that spreads across her face despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“It’s time, lass,” says Connor softly, offering her his arm which she gratefully takes as he leans in to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look stunning, by the way. Ya know it’s not too late to change ya mind and run away with me instead.”

She nudges him playfully away from her and he chuckles as he leads her down the short hallway to a pair of tall wooden doors which are standing open to admit them inside. As they turn into the room beyond, Lucia’s step falters and her fingers dig tighter into Connor’s arm.

“Who are all these people?” she hisses, her eyes widening at the rows of packed pews before her in the church, everyone turning in her direction as music begins to play from somewhere overhead.

“Your new family,” Connor whispers back, beaming down at her. “C’mon, best not keep your man waitin’, he looks like he’s about to pass out as it is.”

Lucia stares past the unfamiliar faces as they begin their slow walk down the aisle, her eyes frantically searching for the only person she needs to see, and then she finds him as they draw closer. He steps into sight at the end of the aisle, his face anxious until his eyes meet hers and then she can see the tension ebb from his features as he welcomes her with a full smile. Connor escorts her to stand beside Murphy, kissing her cheek as he hands her off, and then moves to stand on the other side of his brother while she clasps Murphy’s hand as tight as she can, feeling his fingers wrap securely around hers. The priest in front of them begins the ceremony, his strident words filling the church, but Lucia has already lost focus on what he’s saying. Her entire being is locked onto Murphy, her eyes mesmerized by the sight of him in front of her, still hardly believing it to be real and not some bizarre hallucination her overactive mind has dreamed up. But, when he squeezes her hands reassuringly and gives her the shy lopsided grin that melts her heart every time she sees it, she knows the moment is real enough and nothing can stop the smile that spreads over her face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind comments and kudos on this piece.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the final part. ♥

_edit most graciously on loan from my beautiful muse[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

The wedding reception went exactly has Murphy had expected it would, his new bride being whisked away from him at every opportunity as the female contingent of his relations fawned all over her. He still wasn’t entirely sure he knew who half these people were despite his Ma’s long-winded re-telling of everyone’s family tree with each new person she introduced him too. Halfway through the evening he’d given up even trying to keep track and focused on watching Lucia instead as she moved about the room, charming everyone she met. He was still a little dazed at the speed with which all this had come together. One phone call to his Ma where he had let slip that he and Lucia intended to be married as soon as they could had snowballed into a full on military-style operation to get everything into place for a ‘proper wedding’ as his Ma called it and not one of those paltry registry office affairs. She had taken care of everything, had thrived on it in fact, much to Lucia’s bemusement and Connor’s endless amusement. Although his parents were long-estranged, any lingering animosity between them was pushed aside in the face of the first of their sons tying the knot. Looking across the room now to where his Da is dancing very formally with his new bride, Murphy can barely comprehend that this is the same man that came into his life in a hail of bullets and blood.

He’d come to learn that his father was a very astute man, always thinking three steps ahead of those he came into contact with. Although he chose to live the simplest of lives, the bare shack that he was living in a testament to that fact, he was still more well-connected than Murphy could ever dream of comprehending. His time in prison had done nothing except strengthen the reputation he had made for himself before his incarceration and he had kept well-informed of the comings and goings of the circles in which he had travelled. With an almost effortless grace, he had greased the wheels for Connor and Murphy’s return to Ireland, making sure that there were no problems with their citizenship and that there would be no follow up from across the ocean should anyone take it upon themselves to look into the Saints’ disappearance and put two and two together. He applied the same thoroughness to getting Lucia’s paperwork taken care of, stating that he wouldn’t dream of Murphy letting his brand new bride start her life as a fugitive. Although he had made a lot of canny investments from the money he had earned as Il Duce, he was happy enough to be living off the land and, while he didn’t hesitate to provide Murphy all the money they had needed for the wedding, it was on the understanding that both Murphy and Connor would be working the farm with him in return. Murphy wasn’t sure how either one of them, who had been born and raised as city boys, were suddenly going to cope with living an almost rural life but he knew that he would do his best in exchange for the new life he’d been blessed with.  

His eyes slide over to the bar where Connor is chatting up the only woman under forty that isn’t related to him in some way and his brother gives him a jaunty salute as their eyes meet. Murphy laughs to himself, shaking his head, knowing that his brother will probably never change but hoping he’ll find another opportunity to meet a woman he can have more than a passing fling with. Maybe now that they’ll be living almost regular lives without the imminent threat of their death around every corner, Connor’s priorities will change just as Murphy’s have. His eyes track back to Lucia, admiring the lines of her body as she sways in time to the music, letting his Da spin her out with a light laugh that he can hear across the room. Excusing himself from whichever aunt has him cornered at this particular moment, Murphy weaves through the small knot of people on the dancefloor until he comes up to his Da’s elbow and, with a nod, holds out his hand. His father stares him down for a second and then relinquishes Lucia’s hand into Murphy’s, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek before he heads over to join Connor at the bar.

“He likes you,” Murphy states, resting his hands on her hips as she moves in close to him and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I like him too,” she tells him, curling her fingers into the back of his neck in the way that drives him crazy. “I’m just not sure how such a well-educated man ended up with you and the energizer bunny over there as his offspring.”

“Hey,” Murphy says indignantly to her smirking face. “Well the joke’s on you love because you married me.”

“Yes, I did,” she smiles, her face softening. “Mrs. Murphy MacManus. Mrs. Lucia MacManus… nope, I don’t like it!”

Murphy chuckles as she wrinkles her nose at him, lightly tickling her sides through the silky material of her dress.

“Exactly how much champagne have you had, darlin’” he asks as she wriggles a little in his grasp.

“Not as much as your Ma,” she tells him with a giggle, looking over his shoulder and he turns his head to see his father pinned up against the far wall with his mother berating him wildly, her fist raised as she shakes it in his face.

“Oh fuck,” Murphy exclaims, letting go of Lucia to go to his father’s aide.

“Aww, c’mon, it’s not an Irish wedding until there’s a fight, isn’t that what you told me?” Lucia calls after him. “Leave ‘em to it!”

Ignoring her, Murphy plunges across the room, arriving at the exact same time as Connor and between them they manage to drag away the inebriated fireball that gave birth to them, leaving their father standing stoically behind with the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

With Connor taking care of their Ma, after they both had to stand there and hear her rant about their good for nothing father and how she raised them to be such good boys for at least twenty minutes, Murphy heads back into the reception hall. Determined to finish at least one dance with his bride before the night is over, he searches the room for her, finding her deep in conversation with his Da at the bar, two empty shot glasses in front of each of them.

“Hubby!” she yells as he approaches, slipping off her barstool and getting tangled up in her skirt in the process so that Murphy has to reach out a quick hand to steady her.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, sliding an arm around Lucia’s waist to keep her close to him.

“Two shots, son,” answers his father, signaling the bartender. “Ya better get caught up or your wife here is gonna make you look like a lightweight.”

“Yeah,” seconds Lucia, poking him in the ribs.

Giving a resigned sigh, Murphy downs the two shots the bartender has placed in front of him, one after the other, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He feels his head swim just a fraction as the alcohol hits home, joining the rest that’s already swimming in his system and he wishes he’d had something a little more substantial to eat apart from wedding cake. As he sets the second glass face down on the bar, his father claps him on the shoulder and orders them another round.

By the time the reception finally winds down a little, Murphy is more than a little drunk and he can see Lucia fighting to keep her eyes open as she listens to his Da give her a rundown on the ins and outs of sheep farming. Pretty sure that they’ve both had enough of the festivities at this point, he takes her hand, grabs a half-finished bottle of champagne from a nearby table and heads over to the DJ to commandeer his mic for a moment and thank everyone for coming once more before announcing that he and Lucia are leaving. Among a crowd of well-wishers doling out hugs and backslaps, they make their way outside to where their wedding car is waiting to take them back to the hotel and climb inside, each sighing in relief as the driver closes the door behind them. Waving from the rear window, Murphy catches sight of his Ma, her perfectly-styled hair from earlier now a frazzled mess and with tears streaming down her face, taking a white handkerchief from his Da’s outstretched hand and allowing him to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. With a smile, Murphy sinks back down into the seat, taking Lucia’s hand into his and leaning against her as he gently rubs at the ring that is now firmly back on her finger where it belongs.

The trip to the hotel is mercifully short and the night receptionist greets them with a bored smile as she hands them their key, her dour expression sending Lucia into a fit of giggles for some unknown reason that has Murphy ushering her up the stairs before she says something he’ll regret. At the door to their room he hands her the champagne bottle and makes her wait while he unlocks it and pushes it open then lifts her into his arms and carefully carries her over the threshold.

“I know it’s supposed to be our own place,” he tells her, apologetically, as he kicks the door closed behind them, ‘but this is the best I can do for now.”

“It’s perfect,” Lucia answers, smiling as he gently lowers her back to her feet.

“You’re perfect, love,” he tells her, gripping her hand to steady her as she struggles to remove her shoes.

“And you’re drunk,” she giggles, tugging on the tie that’s hanging loosely around his neck. “C’mere, I need to fix something.”

He stands still in front of her, wondering what’s going on in her brain as she tilts her head at him from side to side and then squints before suddenly lifting up her hands and pushing them into his hair. Her fingers comb through against his scalp, loosening the hair product his Ma had insisted on taming his locks with, and rubbing his hair back into its normally messy style.

“There, that’s better,” she grins up at him then pushes up on her toes to angle her lips to his for a kiss.

He obliges her, wrapping his arms around her back to hold her up as she parts her lips to him and he eagerly slides his tongue over hers. It’s a sweet, lazy kiss with no urgency or agenda behind it, just the enjoyment of an intimate moment between lovers and Murphy sighs lightly through his nose. Lucia backs towards the bed, leading him with her body until they’re laying side by side, Murphy angled up on one elbow to lean over and continue kissing her, his hand resting lightly on her stomach.

“Did I tell you, you look beautiful, love?” he asks, lightly trailing his kisses down her throat.

“You cleaned up pretty nice yourself,” she replies, resting her hands on his head as his mouth moves to the swell of her breasts. ‘Never thought I’d see the day you’d be wearing a suit.”

“And you never will again,” he chuckles, lifting his head to look in her eyes.

“You know what I’d like to see even more?” she whispers, curling her fingers into his short hair and tugging playfully. “You out of the suit.”

“Would ya now, darlin’?” he smirks, teasing his fingers down the smooth surface of her dress.  “And will ya make it worth my while?”

“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,” she tells him, licking her lips suggestively and pushing him up and away from her so that she can sit up. “But first you have to get me out of this monstrosity.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing at her hands which are trying in vain to reach the zipper in the middle of her back. “I think you need to keep it on.”

“Really?” she asks, looking down at herself in surprise. “Won’t it be like having sex with a meringue?”

“No, it will be like making love to my wife, in her wedding dress, on our wedding night,” he informs her, pushing her back down on the bed and resuming his kisses along her neckline.

“But…”

“Lucia,” he says in mock exasperation, raising his head to look at her again, “can ya just be quiet for a few minutes? I’m tryin’ to work here, love.”

She gives a shocked gasp, mouth opening to answer him back but he doesn’t give her the chance, quickly pressing his lips to hers and teasing them in a firm kiss. She relaxes under him, her breath ghosting over his skin as she sighs into his mouth and kisses him back, parting her lips to dart her tongue against his teeth. Her fingers are stroking the back of his neck and he can feel the short hairs there stand to attention under her caress. Leaving her mouth, he kisses his way down her throat once more, his teeth scraping her jawline before he sucks at the delicate skin covering her collarbone. She moans a little under him, shifting her body up into his touch and he feels his cock pressing tightly against the unfamiliar material of the suit he was coerced into wearing. Feeling suddenly restricted, he kneels up, pulling off the tie that’s been strangling him most of the day and yanking the button-down shirt off over his head without even stopping to undo it. He can see Lucia watching him as he stands to remove his shoes and socks, quickly followed by his pants and underwear, letting it all fall to the ground without a care. He sees her eyes travel his body, looking like she wants to devour every part of him and he can’t help but reach for his cock, gasping as his fingers wrap tightly around his shaft and he indulges himself in a few swift strokes.

“Murphy,” Lucia murmurs in a low tone, her eyes fixed on the movement of his hand.

With a grin, he lets himself go and climbs back on the bed, reaching for her ankles and sliding his hands up her stocking-clad legs until his fingers are teasing at the straps of her suspender belt.

“Now whaddya say we take a little peek at what’s going on under all this flounce, huh?” he asks, gathering the hem of her full skirt in his hands and lifting it up.

His breath catches at the sight of her body, clad in matching cream underwear, trimmed with delicate pieces of lace that just have him salivating – the visual stimulation making him want to reach for his cock again. He controls himself, lowering her skirt again to look at her over the top, running his tongue over his dry lips as he smirks at her and then slides his hands up to tug at her panties. She helps him out by raising her hips enough for him to pull them down, slipping them carefully off over her feet and dropping them to the floor. Smiling at her, he raises her skirt and pulls it over his head as he bends to plant rough kisses up the inner length of her thigh, hearing her squeal above him as he makes his way higher and higher. Her playful noise turns to something else entirely as he parts her thighs further and uses his finger to rub gently at the pink nub of her clit that’s now exposed to him. He applies pressure, moving his finger in a circular motion, her thighs opening further as he watches it swell under his touch and he licks his lips in anticipation.

“Murphy,” she moans above him and he can feel her tugging up the material that’s covering his head until she’s freed him of it. “I want to watch.”

He looks up to give her another grin as she pushes up on her elbows, her eyes focused on where his fingers are now stroking her slit, teasing at her entrance until he can feel her wetness seeping out to coat his fingers. Using both hands he parts her lips, dipping his head to swipe his tongue against her pussy, groaning deeply as he tastes her juices on his tongue. She shudders under him, her hips pushing up as he licks her deeper, rolling his tongue over her clit, looking for just the right spot to make her his. When he finds it, combining his lips with the deep thrust of his fingers inside her, she clutches at his head and pants out his name as she comes. He licks at her over and over, coaxing every last twitch from her until her hips drop back to the bed and her fingers stroke lazily through his hair and then down across his shoulders.

With a satisfied smile, he moves up over her body to capture her lips in a long kiss, moaning as she licks and sucks at his tongue, rolling his hips just enough to rub his leaking cock against the satin sheen of her dress. She kisses him harder for a second then pushes up under him, attempting to roll him over but failing in her half-drunk state, her limbs obviously still feeling loose from her orgasm and he laughs as they roll together both of them getting tangled in the abundance of her dress. Untangling herself enough to get into a position to straddle him, Lucia makes an appreciative sound as she catches sight of the open champagne on the bedside table and reaches over to snag the bottle. Murphy watches as she brings it to her lips to drink and she giggles as some of it escapes to trickle down her chin, wiping quickly at it with her fingers. Clutching the bottle tightly in one hand she leans over to kiss him again and his mouth waters at the taste of the sweet alcohol on her tongue. Sitting back, she takes another swig and then he sees a mischievous grin spread across her face as she shuffles back down his legs and he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Lucia, no!” he exclaims but it’s too late.

She tips the bottle over his midriff, just enough to let a small splash fall onto his skin which she promptly ducks down to lick away, her tongue trailing hotly over his skin in wet, messy strokes. She repeats the move, this time pouring a little lower so that he can feel the sticky drink trickling through the hair below his navel and down to his groin, her tongue eagerly following the trail as his blood pounds in his ears. The third time she tips it, she aims directly for the rigid shaft of his cock and then discards the now empty bottle to one side as she winks suggestively at him and then lowers her head once more. He holds his breath until he feels the first slide of her tongue up his length and then he curses hard, fisting his hands in the bedclothes as she teases his dripping head and sucks his length into her mouth. It’s messy and uncoordinated but he doesn’t care as she hollows her cheeks around him and hums hard against his shaft, bobbing her head slowly. He struggles to keep control, not wanting this to be over so fast, but knowing he's about ready to come if she doesn’t ease off a little.

With a grunt of effort, he slides his hands into her hair, pulling it partially free from the intricate clips that had held it in place all day and begging her to stop. She pulls off of him with a pop and he groans again before getting to his knees and pulling her into position in front of him, fighting to find his way under her dress, pushing it roughly up over her back to expose her to him. The sight of her on her hands and knees in front of him, her stocking-clad legs parted invitingly just waiting for him to slip his cock in between them is almost too much for him. He pushes a hand underneath her, rubbing the flat of his palm against her dripping pussy and she arches back to him, muttering his name. Grabbing his cock with his cum-slicked fingers, he moans as he lines up and thrusts into her, pushing as deep as he can into her wet heat. She clenches automatically around him, squeezing his shaft as she pushes back against him and he can hear the small pants of air escaping her mouth as he fills her. He steadies one hand against her hip and the other reaches forward to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back as he starts pounding into her, his hips slamming against her.

“Fuck!” he yells, not caring who can hear him. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuckkkk.”

She feels so fucking good surrounding him, the tight squeeze of her muscles milking him on every forward move and he can feel her rolling her hips back into him, wanting him deeper.

“Murph… harder…” she begs and his whole body responds, thrusting deeper into her, completely turned on by her wanting him as much as he wants her.

“Ohhh shiiiitt,” he groans, feeling his body release and he clutches tighter at her hair, jerking into her until he’s done.

With a final thrust that brings his body flush with hers, he holds his position, his fingers furiously trying to find their way under her dress to help finish her off. With a loud groan from her he pushes against her clit, sliding his fingertips rapidly in her wetness as she pants under him and tells him not to stop. It only takes a few seconds before she’s coming again, squeezing around his cock with a gush of fluids as she gasps out his name over and over. Letting her go, he slides from her, lowering her gently to the bed and laying down beside her, feeling every nerve and muscle in his body quivering. Lucia climbs half over him, kissing his face with shaky kisses interspersed with breathless giggles and he kisses her back, pulling her into his arms to hold her tight.

“I love you, Mrs. MacManus,” he whispers against the top of her head.

“And I adore you,” she whispers back, her fingers tracing lazy patterns around his chest. “But that’s still not working for me.”

Murphy chuckles as he pulls her tighter, planting sleepy kisses on her forehead and he feels her breathing start to calm against his chest, thinking she can call herself whatever she wants as long as he gets to do this with her every night for the rest of his life.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Murphy’s mouth feels like sandpaper when he finally wakes the next day and he swallows dryly as he wonders why he can’t move. Cracking one eye open at a time, he tries to focus on the ceiling above his head but it rolls a couple of times before it settles and he dares to tilt his chin to look down the length of his body. Lucia is laying half on top of him, still clad in her wedding dress, her hair a tangled mess across his chest and he has a vivid flash of his fist wrapped in her tresses as he’d pushed her dress up over her back to reach her flesh underneath. He groans involuntarily at the memory, his bone-dry mouth suddenly flush with saliva, and she stirs at the sound, attempting to bury her head deeper against his bare skin as though he was a pillow. She has one of his arms pinned under her torso and the other clenched tightly in her own which he works carefully to free so that he can brush the straggles of hair away that have fallen over her face. In the morning’s hazy light coming through the curtains he catches sight of her scar, a permanent reminder of the night they met, and his fingers ghost lightly over its length, happy that it no longer seems to bother her in the way that it did. He thinks that they’ve come so far from that night, been through so much together that neither one of them is the same people they were back in that darkened alley.

“Am I dead?” Lucia croaks, her breath rasping against his chest.

“Nope,” he answers, stroking her hair.

“Are you sure because I think only the devil could’ve invented the taste I have in my mouth right now.”

Murphy chuckles which in turn leads to a cough that rattles through his chest and it takes him a second to catch his breath again as Lucia pops her eyes open to give him a hard stare.

“You know, now that your life isn’t at risk of being cut short at any minute, you should really stop smoking.”

“Pfft, I will when you do,” he tells her, tapping his fingertip on the end of her nose which she promptly bats away.

“Yeah, well we can talk about that when I don’t feel like something your Da scrapes off his boot at the end of the day and I’m sure I look worse.”

“Hush, you’re as beautiful as the day I married you.”

“That was yesterday, you dork,” she says, giving him a half-hearted poke in the ribs. “Okay, I need a shower and about a gallon of mouthwash.”

“You need company in there?” Murphy asks, sighing a little as she lifts her weight off of him and the feeling returns to his body.

“Not this time, big boy, but you can help get me outta this straightjacket,” she tells him, tugging futilely at the bodice of her crumpled dress. “I can’t believe I let your mother talk me into this thing.”

“I don’t know,” teases Murphy, “I kind of like you in this. I’m not sure I want you out of it yet.

“Murphy,” Lucia warns, “either you unzip me right now or I find one of the knives I know you have to have hidden in here somewhere and it comes off that way.”

“There’s nothing here, Lucia,” he tells her, his playful mood sobering for a moment. “It’s all gone, the guns, knives, everything. Buried along with the past.”

“And hopefully you’ll never have to see it again,” she answers, leaning over to tilt his chin up and kiss him firmly on the lips.

“Okay,” he laughs a minute later, pulling back from her, “you weren’t kidding about the mouthwash.”

“Hey!”

She lashes out playfully, catching his bare arm in a backhanded slap and he laughs even more before finally relenting and unzipping her dress which she struggles her way out of and leaves in a crumpled heap on the floor. He just has time to admire the strapless bra combined with the stockings and suspenders she’s still wearing before she disappears into the bathroom, giving him a stellar view of her naked rear as she closes the door behind her. He groans as he flops back onto the bed, his knuckles rapping sharply against the empty champagne bottle that is half hidden among the sheets as he throws his arms out to the sides and wonders how in the hell he ever got this lucky.

He’s still wondering the same thing by the time Lucia emerges from the bathroom, looking revitalized and wrapped in a towel that’s really way too small which is giving Murphy all kinds of dirty thoughts from the tantalizing glimpses of flesh he can see underneath. He rolls off the bed, feeling his cock stir as he catches her clean scent and he moves to draw her to him but she places a hand firmly in the center of his chest before he can get too close.

“Shower,” she instructs him.

“Ballbreaker,” he mutters, maneuvering around her and earning himself a stinging slap on his bare ass.

Rubbing his tingling skin, he laughs as he heads into the bathroom, taking the quickest shower he can and then throwing a towel around his waist without even bothering to dry off while he rigorously cleans his teeth. Spitting into the sink, he wipes the toothpaste from his mouth with the back of his hand and turns to find Lucia standing in the doorway watching him.

“Sorry, I just wanted to hang up my towel,” she says, giving him a wicked smile that sets his pulse racing as she tugs it away from her body and throws it over the rail.

She turns to leave but he has her in his grip before she even gets a step away, turning her into his body as he kisses her hard, steering her back to the bedroom in a crooked, clumsy walk. She giggles as he bumps against the bed, losing his balance and taking them both down, the hotel bedframe creaking under the strain. He teases her skin with his lips, leaving a wet trail down over her breasts and onto her stomach, feeling her body responding to every touch he makes. He’s just about to make a move further south when the room is suddenly filled with the harsh ringtone from his phone signaling the arrival of a text and both of them jump wildly.

“Are you kidding me?” Lucia asks incredulously as he scrambles across the bed to retrieve it. “Who the fuck would be texting you the day after your weddi… oh wait, don’t even tell me.”

Murphy quickly reads the message and then tosses his phone back on the bedside table, grinning at Lucia’s pouting face as he climbs back off the bed, all thoughts of romance pushed aside for the moment.

“C’mon,” he says, “you need to get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Out?! Murph, you do realize this is our honeymoon right? I know we may not have flown anywhere exotic but traditionally this is the time where most newlyweds screw like bunnies until they can barely walk. And you want me to go out?”

“If I’d known ya were gonna be this much of a nag, I might’ve thought twice about putting that ring on your finger,” Murphy laughs, slipping into his jeans and pulling a t-shirts over his head.

“Fuck you,” Lucia retorts but he can see the smile on her face.

“All in good time, love, all in good time. But for now, get your clothes on and let’s get going. I’ll buy ya breakfast at the café if you’re good.”

“Oh be still my beating heart, romance isn’t dead,” Lucia mumbles but she gets up from the bed and starts getting dressed anyway.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

After a quick stop at the local café for a late breakfast, Murphy takes Lucia’s hand in his, feeling that same surge of pride that he did the first time they were out in public together as a couple only now it seems tenfold, knowing that she’s his wife. He leads her through the streets of the small town, semi-confident that he knows where he’s going, brushing off her questions about their destination with a ‘wait-and-see’ that has her squeezing his fingers in mock annoyance. He takes them away from the center of town, the tight cluster of shops and houses at its heart thinning out as they head towards the ocean, the tang of salt coming to them on the afternoon air. After the rain of the day before everything seems fresh and revived, the summer sun warming the road in front of them as Murphy brings them to their destination. The single lane road they’re on ends abruptly at a rough-hewn stone wall surrounding the garden of a large two-story house, its stone façade covered in a riot of lush green ivy and brightly-colored flowers. A familiar white van is parked outside. Pushing open the gate and ushering Lucia through, they’re met with the sight of Connor sprawled on the front step, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he gives them a welcoming wave.

“You took your fuckin’ time,” he complains, pushing up off the red brick of the step and looking for somewhere to dispose of his ciggie, opting for an empty flowerpot that’s sitting by the door.

“What’s going on,” Lucia asks, a puzzled look on her face, “where are we?”

“We’re home,” Murphy says, turning to take her hands and looking deeply into her eyes. “If you want it to be, that is.”

“How..?” Lucia stammers, looking from him to the house and back again. “I don’t understand.”

“Da,” Murphy replies, smiling at the look of surprise on her face. “It’s his wedding gift to us.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lucia shrieks, throwing her arms around Murphy’s neck and squeezing him tight.

“Nope,” Murphy laughs, hugging her back and then holding her at arm’s length, “but I have to warn ya, it needs a lot of work and that’s gonna be on us. The guy who owned it went bankrupt halfway through renovating the place, something about tax fraud, I don’t know. But it’s been sitting empty for a while, tied up in red tape, so it needs finishing.”

“Oh my God, I don’t care,” Lucia gushes, practically bouncing in his arms.

“Well, I guess you’ll be wantin’ these then,” Connor says, handing Murphy a set of keys. “Da wanted to be here himself to see ya in but he couldn’t leave the farm for another day.”

“Can we go in?” Lucia asks, her eyes shining brightly.

“Well, it’s yours now, lass,” Connor grins, “you can do whatever you like. I just want you to know that it does have four bedrooms, ya know, just in case ya wanted to take pity on your poor single brother-in-law and give him a place to crash from time to time.”

Lucia steps away from Murphy and draws Connor into a tight hug.

“If my poor single brother-in-law would like to help with the renovations, he can stay whenever he wants,” she tells him, releasing him with a kiss to his cheek.

“Deal,” he replies, smiling at her before walking over to envelop Murphy in a similar hug, slapping him hard on the back and whispering in his ear, “I’m happy you got to take this journey first, brother.”

Murphy nods, feeling the sudden sting of tears behind his eyes, and holds his brother to him for a minute longer.

“Alright, I’m off,” Connor says brightly. “Gonna let you two explore your new love-nest. Have fun and just remember there’s nobody out here but seagulls so you can be as loud as ya fuckin’ want and ain’t nobody gonna care.”

He gives them an exaggerated wink and heads back to the van, chuckling to himself as he goes. Murphy turns to Lucia once his brother has pulled away and holds his hand out to her which she eagerly takes, squeezing his fingers while he slips the key into the lock and opens the front door.

“Ready?” he asks and she nods, smiling widely at him so he scoops her up in his arms, taking her by surprise so that she lets out another small shriek.

“Murph!”

“What? We’ve got to do it properly. Yesterday was just the trial run.”

He carries her over the threshold into their new home, setting her carefully back on her feet in the hallway and closing the door behind them as they look around.

“The basics are pretty much done,” he tells her, taking her hand again and leading her up the stairs. “Electrical, plumbing, new windows. The bathrooms need finishing, everything needs decorating, but the kitchen is done – it’s all brand new. I thought maybe you could use one of the rooms up here to work in or there’s a sun room downstairs at the back. Whatever you want, love.”

“Murphy, I can’t… it’s amazing,” she says, her eyes shining as she looks up at him. “It doesn’t seem real. What on earth are we going to do with all this space?”

“Well, I think Connor’s got designs on at least one of these rooms,” Murphy laughs as they work their way along the upstairs hallway, exploring each room as they head to the master bedroom.

The door to the master bedroom is closed which Murphy finds strange, he doesn’t remember shutting it the last time he was here with his Da and Connor, and a feeling of apprehension flows momentarily over him as he turns the handle and pushes the door open. The feeling instantly melts away as the room’s interior is revealed and he knows without a doubt that Connor must’ve had a hand in what’s inside. Instead of the bare walls and unfinished fixtures that were there the last time he saw the room, everything is now completed with the walls painted a soft cream color that reflects in the shining wood floor. Dominating the space is a brand new bed, complete with matching bedding, and Murphy has a momentary flashback to the one they left behind in Boston, a pang of sadness filling his chest as he thinks on the life they had at Doc’s. Lucia stirs him from his reverie with a small tug on his hand and, looking into her eyes, he knows that she’s having the same thoughts.

“It was good,” she whispers, sliding her arms around his waist and tucking herself in against his chest, “but this will be better. This is our life now and it’s going to be amazing.”

“Aye,” he whispers back, stroking his hand down the length of her hair and holding her close for a moment before letting her go. “C’mon, let’s go down. I have a surprise for ya.”

“A surprise? What can there possibly be left?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” he tells her, pulling her after him back down the stairs. “I didn’t give you my wedding gift yet.”

They briefly explore the downstairs rooms, Lucia in awe of the original stone fireplace that is the focal point of the living room, teasing Murphy with promises of winter nights spent making love in front of a roaring fire. They stop in the kitchen, examining the brand new appliances that are still shrouded in their original plastic, opening and closing the multitude of cupboard doors until Murphy instructs Lucia to sit on one of the chairs surrounding the solid wooden table in the middle of the room.

“Close your eyes,” he tells her and she gives him a suspicious stare but complies.

Crossing the kitchen, he opens the back door that leads to the large sunroom outside and immediately spots the large box he had Connor bring over for him that morning. Smiling to himself, he carefully opens the top flap to reveal two tiny black kittens inside, their bright eyes shining eagerly up at him as they attempt to clamber out. Scooping one up in each hand and praying they’ll stay quiet long enough for him to make his surprise, he hurries back inside, peering around the door first to make sure Lucia still has her eyes closed.

“Hold out your hands,” he says, unable to keep the grin off his face as he gently places both kittens on her outstretched palms at the same time and her eyes fly open.

“What the…” she exclaims, struggling to keep a grip on the two wriggling balls of fur on her lap.

“I thought you might like some company on the days I have to work with me Da,” he grins, plucking one of the kittens from her legs before it can make an escape. “They’re brothers.”

“Of course they are,” Lucia laughs, holding the tiny creature in her hand up to her face to take a good look at it.

“You do like them, right?” Murphy asks, suddenly nervous that he’s made a mistake and he should have maybe asked her first.

“Are you kidding? They’re kittens, what’s not to like?” she smiles as the one in her hand chews mercilessly on her thumb. “I’m just wondering when I’m going to wake up and find this morning is all a wonderful dream caused by all the cheap champagne I drank last night.”

Murphy bends over to kiss her, softly at first and then parting her lips with his tongue to deepen their connection until he has to stop and catch his breath, pulling back to see her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“Still think you’re dreamin’?”

“Nuh-uh,” she replies, licking her lips.

“Good. Then what do you say we put these little fellers back outside where they can’t get into any trouble and we go back to the hotel and pack our suitcases so we can move into our new home?”

“Can we? I mean, is it ready enough?”

“Yep. Had the electric turned on last week and now we have a bed I can’t see why we should be paying to stay someplace else, do you?”

“Well technically your Da was paying but no, can’t see any reason why we shouldn’t,” Lucia grins and he can see the excitement bubbling over in her.

Taking the kittens back to the sun room, leaving them loose to explore until they get back, Murphy and Lucia head back out into the afternoon sun and lock the door to their new home behind them. Slipping her hand into Murphy’s, Lucia links her fingers with his and leans against his shoulder as they walk and it’s his turn to wonder if this is all some incredible dream that he’s going to wake up from soon but the feel of her skin against his is enough to convince him it’s real and he smiles contentedly to himself.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Murphy sits by the open window in their room, staring out into the dark of night as he slowly smokes a cigarette, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the countryside outside. He knows he should be tired after they spent the day transferring their belongings from the hotel to their new house and getting everything in place for them to start living there. Lucia had insisted on cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom once they had removed all the plastic sheeting and they had needed a whole list of supplies including food that they had had to call Connor to come back to help with as he had the only transport available to them. They had fallen into bed after midnight, worn out but happy with the progress they’d made, christening their new bed with a round of soft, slow love-making that ended with them curled around each other unwilling to let go. But now, here it was just three hours later and Murphy was wide awake watching Lucia sleep, tracing the soft curves of her body in the moonlight with his eyes, her bare skin glowing palely. Since the move across the ocean, the terrible journey he’d spent apart from her, he often found himself waking in the early hours, his body clock shot – not knowing if it’s night or day – but he hoped it would settle down now that they were together again. Finishing his smoke, he grinds it out in the ashtray on the windowsill, knowing that Lucia is probably right and that they should both consider giving up. He glances up as a brief flash of light catches his eye, somewhere out in the direction of the sea and he thinks he faintly hears a rumble in the distance. The air suddenly feels charged somehow and, as he turns his head back to Lucia’s sleeping form, he sees a shadow pass briefly over her features, her brow furrowing just slightly as if something in her dreams had caused her a moment’s displeasure. In that moment, with a chilling certainty that hollows a tiny place in his soul, Murphy knows that somewhere in their future, maybe near or far, a storm is coming and what’s coming with it is going to change the course of their lives once more. With a shudder, he closes the open window tightly and climbs back into the bed beside his sleeping wife, wrapping himself around her and praying that he never has to let her go.


End file.
